TGS 3: Boundless Aurora
by byronthedeadpoet
Summary: This is the third and final installment in my Twilight Gender Swap trilogy. I know you all were hoping for four, but the story I am telling can be summed up in three installments. Thank you all so much for your continued support!
1. Chapter 1: Commencement (Benjamin)

Benjamin

Today was the day. Graduation. I stood in my room, looking at my closet, knowing it was futile. I didn't think I was going to wear anything in it. I wasn't even bothering to pretend to consider picking something out.

The last month had been a blur. Mom had pitched a fit when she realized that Edwina was driving me to and from school. She had really yelled at me for the first time since I could remember. She had me doing even more chores and mandated that I was to drive my own truck to and from school and work every day. I agreed, and Edwina rode with me every morning.

It was easy for her. Her ability to move at blinding speeds from her house to mine in a blink of an eye notwithstanding, all she had to do was leave with me in the morning. She was, after all, staying sleeplessly in my bed with me every night as I slumbered. Just this morning, I was teasing her about how incredibly boring it must be, saying that I would have to bone up on my book collection just so she would have something to do whilst I was out. She smiled and said nothing, just looking at me. It shut me right up, mostly because I couldn't not kiss her when she looked at me that way.

I loved her. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. And I knew that today was a big step in making that day a reality. If my future sister-in-law would just get here already.

"You know me too well," sighed Alice, sitting on my windowsill with a dry-cleaning back over one shoulder. She pulled out a very dressy but simple white button up shirt, a navy blue tie with matching handkerchief, and a tailed black overcoat.

"Third pair of jeans and the black belt," she said, and I took them out, she turned back towards the window as I quickly stripped out of my clothing.

"So," she said meaningfully, "do you make Edwina turn away when you change."

"No," I said simply. "I change in the bathroom."

I could practically felt her pouting.

"You two are becoming less and less fun to live vicariously through," she said, and I could tell by her voice at she was building me up. "I will have to do something about that."

The shirt half buttoned and half untucked, I bounded across the room.

"You have it?" I asked.

She turned, and my little future sister held up a simple white little box, its size unmistakable, beaming at me the way only she could. I hugged her, and she promptly pinched my mouth shut as she was not supposed to be in my bedroom and my mother was downstairs. Setting her down, I opened the box.

It was an old ring, a bit large and oval, almost gaudy, yet it made up for it with an elegant simplicity. The band was almost tiny, the many round stones placed so that a least one was always catching the light, no matter what angle you looked at it from. It shown like she did under the brilliant sun.

This ring belonged to Elizabeth Mason, Edwina's human mother. She had lost it upon her mother's death, pilfered by some hospital orderly who had a side business going on, apparently expecting a little extra for risking his life during the influenza outbreak. It had gone into circulation, and while Edwina had done her immortal best over the years, she could only find places it had been. She had asked for Alice's help several times, but Alice had had some forethought on the matter, as was her way.

She had said that she had been unable to find it, but had, in fact, located it very easily in the home of a private collector in the south who was very fastidious about keeping his treasure trove a secret.

"The fool did everything he could to sell me on the idea that it had once belonged to some obscure European royal family," she scoffed. "However, he was asking for a third of what I had been prepared to pay, and I told him so once the deal was done. After stating that I was a member of the International British Conservation Society and produced the paperwork that proved he was lying about the ring, I said that I was blacklisting him and informing those in notable circles of his double dealings. Anyone who works with him in the future will have him grateful that they would be willing to do so at all and too embarrassed to be anything but above board. He won't cheat anyone in the future."

I raised an eyebrow at her, "British?"

"I am very knowledge about such things," she said in a startlingly impressive British accent before returning to her usual voice. "Now, I have to make your lovely lady and myself presentable. I will see you at school. Oh, and one small thing."

She smiled, half out the window, sitting upon the sill as though it were a swing, leaning back, her hands lightly gripping the frame.

"We are trying to keep a low profile," she said. "Vampire, remember? If you do decide to use that ring today, don't be too conspicuous when you ask her. Because, believe me, you two have already gotten enough attention."

She wasn't wrong. After three days of staying apart at school once the Cullens had returned to Forks, we had gone back to being a couple. We had tried to be low key about it, but people talk, and talk, and talk. I was pretty sure that my mother had heard about it by lunchtime that day, along with Persian goat herders and Aboriginal tribesmen. We were pretty much the hot new old couple around school, inseparable with identical schedules, reunited and undeniably happy. With graduation coming up, it felt like people were trying to squeeze all the gossip and vicarious enjoyment that they could out of it while they still had the chance.

Jesse was wooing and trying to fist-bump me ever few hours at school. Angelo was nice, as ever. Mickie was pleasant enough, but I noticed that she was marking her territory around Jesse a lot more, practically hanging on him and making out with him whenever Edwina was around. Just about everybody else wanted to know what had happened, what was happening now, and what our plans for the future were.

Edwina had been instrumental in future part of things. I had the feeling that she was purposefully trying to distract me from any possibility other than more school. Whenever we talked about plans after school, she brought up college. Before her first week back was out, she was coaching me through applications and essays and picking a school. And, that's how I wound up enrolled in Dartmouth next fall. With Edwina.

"I'll keep that in mind," I said.

And I meant that. What she said made sense. I knew now that I wasn't going to do it at the school. Seriously thinking about it, I knew there was only one place that I could really do it. I was going to ask her at the meadow. Our meadow; the place of our first kiss, the place where I told her that I loved her.

Alice sighed, "You are such a sap! I love it!"

She slipped out the window without as much as a goodbye. I placed the ring carefully in my coat pocket. I had my hand pretty much down my pants as I was tucking in my shirt, which made me jump as Alice's head popped back up.

"Oh," she said, "one last thing. I have gone to great lengths to hide this from Edwina and everyone, so if you wreck all my hard work, I won't forgive you for forty years or so. You have been warned."

"Alright," I said. "Just don't break my window. I'll see you at graduation."

"The first of many," she beamed and was gone.

I put on the coat and was trying to fix the tie when there was a knock at the door, "Ben?"

"I'm decent," was my usual opening when she called at my door.

She walked in and gasped.

Granted, my hair was still too short to be messy, and I was standing there with my tie undone, but if I knew Alice like I knew Alice, I looked good.

"Oh Ben," she said thickly. And I turned to see that she had tears in her eyes. "You're growing up."

I snorted, holding the ends of the tie, completely at a loss, "If you say so. I am still hopeless at some things."

She walked in and started sorting out the tie, though she obviously wasn't much better at it than I was.

"Ben," she said, her attention more on what she was doing. "We haven't really talked all that much about the future lately. I know it's your life and all, and you are welcome here as long as you want, but Pen-Col will only get you so far. At some point, you are going to have to get out there, get your own place, maybe go to another school afterward. Have you thought about that any?"

I hadn't told her that my plans had changed, for obvious reasons. I'm sure she would find the idea of me running off with Edwina to go to school in the fall about as appealing as performing her own appendectomy. But, now was the time, and I couldn't put this off any longer.

"Mom," I said. "I'm not going to Pen-Col."

She glanced up at me briefly, hidden suspicion still creeping into her face.

"Oh," she said, looking back to the tie. "Where will you be going?"

"New Hampshire," I said carefully.

She stopped what she was doing, "New Hampshire?"

"To Dartmouth," I said, as though resigned.

He expression was blank. When she spoke, there was a quaver in her voice, "You're going to Dartmouth?"

"Yeah," I said.

She hugged me. Abruptly. She pulled away quickly, though. It was more than either of us could stand.

"Oh wow, honey!" she said. "That's amazing! I didn't know you were applying there! Why didn't you tell me?"

I swallowed, "Because Edwina encouraged me to do it."

She stilled and face became neutral.

"She's going too?" she asked.

I held my breath, "Yeah."

She sighed, "Okay, well, I get why you didn't tell me, I guess."

"Mom," I said. "I-"

She held up a hand, "No, no. You don't have to say anything. I mean, if you were going to go to a community college, and she talked you into Dartmouth, there really isn't anything I can say about it. I don't want you to get hurt like I did, is all. I guess I will just have to figure out how to let that one go. Anyway, I'm really going to miss you, kid."

I hugged her, close and long, "I'm going to miss you too, Mom."

We pulled back.

"What's this?" she asked.

And, before I could even consider what was about to happen, she reached into my coat's inside pocket and pulled out the small white box.

I froze. What could I do? What could I say?

She opened it. It was her turn to freeze.

It's funny how the world never opens up and swallows you when you want it to.

I didn't move. I didn't breath. I just stood there in hopes that she might just forget I was in the room.

"This is an engagement ring," she said, as though hoping I might contradict her.

I couldn't figure out how to make my lungs work right.

"Yes," I said, my voice almost cracking, a bit squeaky.

Her eyes went wide, as everything opened up to her.

My father had spent his entire life saying that if I ever got engaged before I left high school, he would strangle me. Today, I was out of high school. We were going off to school in the fall together. We could very well be moving in together, which was the plan. She realized that I was taking a one-way trip into adulthood, and my mom looked like she was considering standing on the tracks, even though there was no way to stop the train in time.

"No," she said.

"No?" I asked, not sure how to respond.

"No," she said again, but her tone was different. "Not no, no, I mean. I guess, I just mean I wouldn't. If I were you."

I thought about that.

"Why?" I asked, mostly because it was the first thing that came into my head.

"Because," she said, "you're young."

"And?" I asked. "I know what I want."

"You really should date more before making such an important decision," she went on.

"I did that," I said. "I dated Josie. Really hard to make a better choice than that. Didn't matter."

"You," she said, stumbling for more, "you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"I don't know what I'm getting myself into whenever I walk out the door," I said. "I'm willing to roll with it."

"People change," she said.

"I plan to," I said, trying not to laugh about how true that was, "but not about this. I love her, Mom. I did everything I could to deny it. But I can't change it, and I wouldn't even if I could. She's my world. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, forever."

She stared at me, having no idea how real a possibility that was for us.

"But," she said, "and I'm not trying to argue with you, I'm really not. But you're so young, Benji. I mean, what's next? Kids?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

"We haven't had sex, Mom," I said, "and besides, that isn't an issue. Edwina has a condition, mom, remember? If we do have kids, they won't be... Well, they won't be carried by her, at the very least."

For the first time, I saw something give in my mother, with regards to Edwina. She looked wholeheartedly sympathetic and gave a rough, quavering sigh.

"Oh," she said, something sort of deflating in her. "Right. That's, um, that's too bad."

"What?" I asked, looking concerned.

She realized she was still holding the ring box up. And closed it and handed it back to me.

"I've made a lot of dumb decisions, kid," she said. "You were never one of them. I... I was just hoping you would get to feel that, someday."

"I will, Mom," I said, hugging her again. "They may not be ours, but kids is something we could still do. If and when we are ready."

"Don't make me a grandma too soon," she said laughing.

There was a knock at the door.

"That's odd," I said. "She's early. I would have sworn we still had like twenty minutes."

"Maybe she's just early," said Mom as I went downstairs with her behind me, putting the ring back in my pocket.

"You don't know Alice like I do," I said. "Edwina wouldn't have a second to spare, count on it."

I opened the door, and froze, "Dad?"

"Hey bud!" said my dad, stepping in with a carry-on bag in hand. "How you been?"

"Dad!" I said again, loud with enthusiasm and hugged him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Language!" he said grinning, hugging me back. We parted and he smiled up the stairs. Mom was standing about three steps up, unmoving.

"Hello Ray," she said, not exactly unfriendly but certainly a little stiff.

"Hi Carrie," he said. "Don't worry. I'm not expecting you to put me up. I'm just here for the graduation and then I have a hotel back in Port A waiting for me."

"You're not staying?" I asked, genuinely unhappy.

"Sorry, Benji," he said. "It's an early flight. I'm just staying for the ceremony."

I could tell he didn't want to make a fuss, so I let it go.

"I'm so glad you're here dad," I said, taking his bag and walking into the living room.

"Where are your cap and gown?" he asked, walking behind me. "We're doing pictures, right?"

Mom sighed, "I was going to wait until the girlfriend showed up."

Dad looked pointedly at me, "What girlfriend?"

Oops.

"The first one," said mom, and suddenly I like having them in the same room a little bit less.

"Oh ho!" said dad. "That's rich. The first real girlfriend you have dumps you while you're in the hospital, and you're taking her back? First I have to hear about Josie half way through you two dating from your mother and now this?! What are you thinking, son!?"

"It gets better," said Mom. I headed her off right there. My dad was not the biggest advocate of young marriage.

"You're right, Dad," I said quickly. "You're totally right. I should have told you. I just... I didn't want you to-"

"Freak out?" asked Dad. "Well, it's a little late for that, Buster Brown! Honestly, what were you thinking, Benji? I have a notion to give this girl a piece of my mind!"

There was a precise knock at the door.

"Now's your chance," said Mom. I walked towards the door, but dad trudged ahead of me and got there first. He pulled the door open abruptly and came up short. I didn't blame him.

Edwina was standing on our doorstep, in all her glorious beauty. Her hair was pulled into a loose sort of messy bun to one side of her face, with a fall of wavy ringlets that fell over a bare shoulder. She wore a simple cream-colored dress with spaghetti straps that cut across the middle of her chest, draped from just below her bust, and came down to her knees. The dress was just a touch lighter than her pale skin, highlighting all her features, accenting the red of her hair and the gold of her eyes. She looked a little embarrassed, bashful almost, her fingers seeming to play with themselves as she clutched her packaged cap and gown before herself, fig-leaf like, one of her knees turning in a bit, presenting her matching sandals with only the barest hint of a heal.

"Hello," she said, polite and a bit off kilter. "Is Ben ready?"

Dad took more than a second to come to grips with the situation, in the meantime, I stepped around my father.

"Hey," I said, and I couldn't keep the resplendent smile off my face any more than she could. Her look was that of someone who had found joy again after years of emotional destitution, of coming home after long toil, of being able to breathe deeply again.

"This is my father," I said, "Raymond Hawkins. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Edwina Elizabeth Cullen."

She gave my dad a radiant smile, and we both were having trouble breathing.

"It is lovely to finally meet you," she said graciously. "I am sorry if my reputation isn't exactly glowing with you. I am sure that you probably have some rather strong feelings about how I have treated your son this past year. Please understand, I firmly believed that leaving Ben as I did was the single worst decision of my life. I have been trying to live every moment that I am with him with that in mind and am trying to make up for that mistake in every way that I reasonably can. I do hope you will forgive me for imperfection, even though I do understand that I don't deserve it and that I haven't the right to ask for it. I can only be grateful that Ben has already found it in his remarkable heart to forgive me my transgression. I love your son. He is the most important man in the world to me. The most important man ever."

She took my proffer arm, as she did ever day at school, and kissed my check, as she always did, and I laid my hand on hers, as I always did.

I swear, my father was choked up. My mother too. She might have had the beginnings of tears in her eyes, so adamant, so heartfelt was Edwina's little speech. I felt like the luckiest man alive.

"I'll get the camera," my mother said quickly.

"I'll help," said my dad just as fast, and they both disappeared into the kitchen.

Edwina smiled at me, and as soon as we were alone, I pulled her into me. She let me, and we thumped against the wall beside the door. We both grinned, trying to maintain the kiss as long as we could despite our laughter.

"I was wondering when that was going to happen," she said as soon as we had parted.

It took me a moment to get her meaning.

"Alice," I asked.

She grinned, "The day of the accident. Even now, it's still coming true for us."

I smiled back, "Yes. You certainly are my dream come true."

Her eyes were so very tender as she kissed me, her lips gentle despite their durability.

"I love you," she said. "I would return the sentiment, but..."

"You don't dream," I said, touching her cheek.

Her lips twitched, her mouth trying to smile though it was smiling already.

"You are a wonder, my Benjamin," she said.

Before she could say more, there was a beep and a flash. Our gazes didn't leave each others'.

"Wow, you two," said Dad. "Seriously, why didn't you go to prom? You two would have looked amazing together."

Edwina laughed. She couldn't help it. I tried very hard to scowl. I couldn't keep it on my face and smiled at the same time.

"We did," I admitted. "Sort of."

Mom and Dad both looked shocked.

"Ben refused to go into the dance," said Edwina. "And I wanted him to go to at least one. Going to a school dance is such an important part of experiencing high school, and there was only the one dance left. So, we had our own, at my house."

"Benjamin Martin," said my mother. "You were grounded!"

"It was my fault," said Edwina, her twisted expression a perfect balance between repentance and a desire to be understood. "I persuaded him. He was never going to get another chance, and it was because of me that he had been grounded in the first place. How could I let my mistake deprive him of one of the best parts of growing up?"

It was hard not to be taken with her. I was used to it, and even I was ready to console and reassure her. My parents were no better.

"Of course you couldn't," Dad said. "It wasn't as though you were up to anything nefarious or anything."

"There are pictures," she said. "My sister took them. She was rather insistent."

Insistent wasn't the right word. An unstoppable force of nature was closer to correct. What she had done to the living room at the Cullens' home had been rather intense. I was quite sure it was decorated identically to the school gym, so much so that when Alice had shown the pictures to a few kids at school, Jesse was convinced I had been there and that we had exchanged words even. Only Angelo looked confused by the picture but was polite enough not to ask.

"I can have prints made," said Edwina, pulling out her phone and bring up a few that she kept there.

We were standing outside the Cullens' home after dark, the exterior with some amazing lighting. I was well dressed in a formal tux that Alice at tailored to me perfectly even before I had put it on. Edwina was in a wine colored strapless formal dress that she made look amazing. My tie and cummerbund matched the color of the dress. It was the only time I had ever seen her wear makeup and the effect was startling. It was the only time I had seen us together from the outside, and despite my human fallibility and slightly dazed expression, I had to admit we looked good together.

Dancing with Edwina that night had been everything I had wanted. My fantasy of dancing with my girlfriend at a school formal had been fulfilled and had exceeded my expectations. Standing with her, the music playing around us, the world falling away, everything but us seeming distant and unreal. The entirety of the universe narrowed to the single small, two by two space that we stood in, together, basking in the love that we shared for one another. It was the best memory of my life. One of many.

"Aw!" said Dad, looking at the picture. "Look at you two. Carrie! Get over here and look."

Mom walked slowly over, her steps laden, her expression closed. When she looked at the picture, my dad taking her arm, inviting her in, her expression was similar to the one she had had when she came in and saw me dressed for graduation. But this time, there was a sorrowful note to it, a look of obvious regret.

"Hey," said Dad, "hey. None of that now."

"What?" asked mom, somewhat jumpily.

"I know that look," said Dad. "You can't change the past, hon. You just can't. What's done is done. They're here now. Pictures!"

She did not look convinced, but Dad, camera still in hand, threw his arms wide and in a faux basso of comical melodrama, cried, "Pictures!"

My mom's dower mood cracked, and she smiled.

"There's the old girl," said Dad.

"I'm not old," said Mom, a look of semi-endearing annoyance on her face.

"Old you, not you're old," said Dad, stepping back, and holding up the camera. Mom quickly stepped behind him.

"Come on," said Dad. "Let's see a nice one, for the camera this time."

Edwina placed her cap and gown on the small table holding a lap, then stepped into the best-lit corner of the living room. We moved as one, together, arranging ourselves as if we had done this a million times or more, conscious of each other on such a personal level, we functioned as one with total trust. As we found our spot and stood together, a caught dad watching us with an odd awed look.

"Dad?" I asked, and he snapped out of it.

"Right!" he said. "Right!"

We stood, her arm through mine. Dad took the picture.

"One more," he said, "a little closer."

Edwina slipped her arm from mine, sliding it around my back as she stepped closer to me. The cool pressure of it, the slight catching friction, the almost sensuous curving of her arm against me, all had me suddenly more flustered than I would prefer to be in front of my parents.

Smiling at her, I drew up my own arm, raise up and across behind her back, my fingernails and the pads of my fingertips almost lazily drawing across the smooth contours of her skin as I brought my hand to rest on her shoulder. Her eyes, looking into mine, widened, just noticeably. The side of my mouth turned away from my parents quirked upwards, my private smirk to her.

The camera flashed again.

"Oh, you kids are so cute together!" said Dad." Aren't they cute, Carrie?"

"You're gushing, Ray," she said, a little nostalgic chuckle bubbling up in her.

"This is a gush worthy occasion," he protested, not entirely serious. "I'm a gushy person. I'm allowed to gush!"

"Caps and gowns?" asked mom, completely unfazed by dad.

Edwina went to retrieve hers as I did mine, in different directions.

"No," said Dad. "Caps and gowns after! What's the point of getting pictures of you in your caps and gowns before you actually graduate?"

Edwina conceded easily, and I joined her.

"Okay," said Mom. "Um, how are we getting there?"

"I have my Mercedes," Edwina said. "It will fit all of us. You are welcome to drive it. It's insured for all drivers."

My dad raised an eyebrow and glanced out the window.

"Marry her," said Dad.

Mom choked. I laughed as best I could to cover it up. Edwina helped, her ethereal delight bouncing about the room.

We clamored out of the house, pockets check and keys used or exchanged. Edwina and I sat in the back and Mom drove.

"Huh," I said as we sat back. "I've never been in the back seat before."

"Ben," my dad chastised me, "you don't want to admit you've never been in the back seat with a girl to your girlfriend."

I was about to protest when Edwina cut in smoothly, "As opposed to boasting about being in the back seat with a lot of girls?"

"Hmm," my dad said, and I could tell he was impressed. Even mom was fighting a bit of a smile.

"You are killing it with my parents," I all but mouthed so that only she would possibly hear me.

She turned, her mouth to my ear, "Am I really?"

The cool air that passed my ear sent a shiver through me.

Her lips pursed as she tried not to smile.

"Stop that," I said through gritted teeth.

"What are you going to do about it?" she teased back.

Sitting in the car made her skirt rise up above her knee, and with a deft hand, I ran a few finger up the indentation beside her knee, my hand closing to cup her leg rather suggestively.

She jumped, as much as Edwina ever did. She looked me hard in the eyes, her intensity momentarily flaring.

"Hand check," said my dad, turning in his seat. We both immediate raised our hands in plain view, both amused.

We pulled up to the school, which was in utter chaos. With at least three times the usual populace, it was pretty much a madhouse, even if we got there a little early. We parked after circling the lot twice and made our way towards the gym. Half way there, we were nearly mobbed by Jesse and Mickie.

"Hey you two," said Mickie as we walked up, and both came up short when they noticed my dad.

"Hey," I said, "this is my dad. Dad, this is Jesse and Mickie."

They greeted each other politely, and I had just spotted Angelo when, all of a sudden, a small and rather dense person landed on my back.

"Oh, Alice!" I protested before I could even see her, stumbling forward. Edwina steadied me without seeming to.

"We're graduating!" Alice enthused, unable to be diverted as she slid from my back. "Aren't you excited?"

I frowned, "I might be, as soon as my spine returns to its usual shape."

"The sister," I just caught my mom saying to my dad.

Dad looked at her a moment, as though not sure what to make of her. I was about to intercede, in hopes that he would do or say anything rude or embarrassing when he bowed and said, "Lovely to meet you, young lady."

Alice tittered and turned to embrace Jasper, followed by Katherine and Emanuel.

My parents were rather stunned. I guessed even my mom hadn't seen that many of them all together at once. They were very pretty people, after all.

"Hello," said Emanuel. "I'm Edwina's father, Emanuel Cullen. This is my wife, Katherine."

They both smiled and kept out of easy handshake distance. If my parent caught this, they didn't give any sign of it. I think there were just taken off guard by how good they looked. Or how young. Or the fact that they were unnatrual creatures of the night. Either or, really.

"Let's go," they said. "It's going to start soon."

All us kids who weren't wearing caps and gowns started putting them on and affecting Alice's enthusiasm. We joined the throng marching into the gym, finding seats labeled for us. I sat beside D.J. Garrett, who wouldn't stop fussing with her tassel.

At last, the assemblage was beginning. People sat and students were rowdy and everything was loud and full of life.

Ms. Greene took the stage and the ceremony began. The band started up playing something just to get people to hush and settle. When they finished, she began.

I didn't pay that much attention to the speech. I was looking at Edwina, in the seats ahead of me. She was turned sideways talking to Alice, but her face was turned towards me. She eyed me, an odd look of something that looked like speculation in her expression, as though she were wondering where the nearest unoccupied closet might be. But after a moment of just looking at her, everything else just seemed to fade away. It was just her and me, like it had been for that dance.

I almost asked her right then and there. She would have heard me, and I was not sure how she would have reacted. All things considered, knock over chair and students to get to me seemed like a possibility. Before I could do more than consider doing it anyway, Alice pulled her to face the front by taking her hand, looking back at me just long enough to roll her eyes.

We listened as school officials drones on about the future and moving on to better things. I just wanted five minutes with Edwina in the meadow. I was ready. I didn't want to wait anymore.

Alice stood up as they called for the Valedictorian. She walked up on stage, a small speech in her hand.

"Today," she said, "we are graduating. It doesn't matter how many times I say that, it just never gets old!"

There were more than a few laughs, but mine was the loudest.

"We are here to celebrate growing up," she said, "and no matter how much we wish we could know what is ahead of us out there, the only way to know is to get out there and find it. Unless you're psychic, like me."

More laughter.

"We may not like what we see and we may not have any answers at all. But really, what has school prepared us for if not to find answers when we're in a hostile environment?"

More laughter.

"So," she said, "as we move on to whatever comes next for each of us, I strive to remember one thing; of all the things I know, I know that I know nothing the best. So, go. Fail like it doesn't matter and keep looking for your place in the world, no matter how many tries it takes. And above all, party!"

There was a cheer. Half the students gave her a standing ovation, and the rest joined in from the seats. She returned to her chair, and the next thing I knew, Ms. Greene was calling for the front row to stand, and I realized this was it. Each row stood in turn, and then it was our turn. I stood, a bit unsteady, and walked my way up to the stage.

One by one, Ms. Greene shook our hands and handed us our diploma as Mr. What-his-name from the office said our names over the loudspeaker.

"Congratulations, Mr. Hawkins," she said, handing me mine.

I heard my dad whistle and turned to see my parents nearly bouncing in the stands. The Cullens were sitting with them and applauding as well. Edwina had already regained her seat and was smiling broadly at me, undeniable pride on her face.

I smiled and waved and a few of my friend clapped too. I felt rather moved as I walked back down and regained my seat.

And that was it. After a swell of monotonous names and handshakes and given diplomas, we all at our seats again, and Ms. Greene said something about the class of oh six and the students around me exploded. Hats went flying and people rushed from their seats. I barely made it to the aisle before Edwina was beside me, taking my arm.

"I'm so very proud of you," she said.

I smiled, "I would say I'm proud of you as well, but for someone with a photographic memory and who knows how many diplomas already, I'm afraid it won't mean much."

She hugged me, looking into my eyes until I looked back.

"I always want to hear what you have to say," she said. "I don't care if it is commentary on the weather. They're your words, your thoughts, your feelings. They will always be precious to me."

I smiled and gave her a quick peck on the lips, the most we would ever do in school. And ever would do again, because, I realized, it was over. This was it.

"You're precious to me," I said. "I love you as much as my own life."

She grinned, diverting me towards my descending parents.

"Congratulations kid!" said Mom, coming up and giving me a hug, Dad snapping a quick photo before she realized.

"You keep doing that," I said so that only she and the vampires could hear me.

She played it off a bit gruffly as Dad took her place.

"I'm so happy for you, buddy!" he said loudly. "It seems like just yesterday I was changing your diapers-"

"Anyway!" I said loudly, as I did every time he said this.

I turned to where Alice and Edwina were being congratulated and made much of by her parents. They finished and turned their attention back to us.

The three of us stood, and Jasper joined us, and the parents each took it in turn to take pictures with us kids. Finally, after much fussing and Mom finally giving in and taking one picture with just me and my dad, Alice finally beat a path over to the three of us.

"Ben," said Alice, "you are coming tonight, aren't you?"

"Am I?" I asked, having no idea what she was talking about and realizing after the words came out of my mouth that we were in mixed company and she couldn't rightly answer me.

She laughed, "To the party! We're having a graduation party. You're no longer grounded, right? You were only grounded until graduation."

"He was still grounded?" asked Dad. "For the thing with Alaska?"

Mom looked at the floor, "Not the time or the place."

He threw up his hands, "Fine, fine. Of course Ben can go."

"We should talk about this first," said Mom.

"Why shouldn't he go?" asked Dad, sounding defensive.

"We have a family dinner planned," said Mom.

"Enough," I said, loud enough that they both stopped.

"Mom, Dad," I said evenly. "I'm eighteen years old and I just graduated from high school and I'm not grounded. I am old enough to decide for myself if I can go to a party or not."

"We'll be chaperoning the party ourselves," said Katherine. "You're more than welcome to come yourselves, if you like."

"There," I said. "I will go to the parentally supervised graduation party tonight after our dinner. Any arguments?"

I said all this without any anger or frustration. Both my parents deflated immediately.

"Good," I said. I turned and kissed Edwina's offered cheek. "Can I return your car to you tonight?"

She nodded, "Of course."

She exchanged a knowing look with me, and I wondered what she was hearing from my parents that I wasn't. It wasn't until we were half way to the car that I realized that my mom knew that I intended to propose to her and had no inclination not to think of other things while around Edwina.

I spent the car ride in a funk. Alice was going to kill me. Just before we got to the restaurant, I texted her.

 **Sorry. How mad are you?**

She replied right back.

 **I have not idea what you are talking about. Anything you've done hasn't had any adverse affects on the future as far as I can see. Your dad is cute. Explains so much about you. Edwina would like to tell you that she loves you and you handled your parents very well. Oh and you're dad is going to talk to you about marriage at dinner.**

The text arrived in less time than it took to type mine. And it took me a moment to try and figure out if Alice was telling me what was going to happen or if Edwina was saying what she had sensed my dad's intentions were. In the end, I couldn't figure it out.

We ended up at The Lodge, my mom's favorite place to eat out. Apparently it was fairly busy with graduation and all, so it took some time for them to find us a table that could seat three. Luckily, it was near the back and was a little quieter.

We sat and all ordered drinks; water no ice for me, diet sprite for my mom, and a sweet tea for my dad.

"That's new," I said.

He smirked, "Some things about the South grow on you."

"Especially if it's that humid and hot," said Mom.

Dad snorted, "As opposed to humid and cold? No thank you!"

I tried to remember the last time I saw the two of them together like this. I couldn't rightly remember. A Thanksgiving? A Christmas?

"So, Ben," said Dad. "Before we get into the catching up and reminiscing part of the evening, there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" I asked. That was quick. He must really feel strongly about this.

"Look," he said. "I haven't always been the best father to you. I'll be the first to admit it. You probably got into more trouble because of me than you would have on your own growing up. Live and let live. Anyway! But, as your dad, there is something that I do have some experience with, and that's marriage."

He looked at my mom, and to my surprise, she smiled at him. He actually took her hand on the table.

"Ben," he said, "when I was growing up, it was kind of important to get married."

"That's still important today, Dad," I said.

"No, see," he said. "It was really important. Like, no socially acceptable deviations. Things like gay marriage and the like, they were even less socially acceptable then than they are now. Alternative lifestyle wasn't a term much used back then. Gripes! We didn't even have the internet! Could you imagine, Carolyn?"

Mom shook her head, suppressing a smile.

"Anyway," he said. "I couldn't imagine having the internet when I was your age. Or when I was twenty or thirty. Okay, maybe thirty. The point is, your life is going to be completely different from mine. You have all this information at your fingertips, all these things you could do, these different choices. I want to make sure you think all your options through. I'm not telling you what you should do, just that in what you choose, you should just be sure."

I knew my dad well. Even without Alice's prompting, I would have been able to pick this one up.

"Choose about what?" I asked.

"About Edwina," he said. "I mean, seriously, I get it. That didn't make girls like that when I was growing up."

"They made them okay," said mom. Trying to hold in a smile.

Dad smiled too, "Yeah they did."

Mom giggled. She actually giggled. I couldn't remember the last time I heard her laugh. For the briefest moment, she looked years younger, sort of like the pictures I remember back when she was closer to my age, early twenties. She was sort of pretty.

The waiter came and placed our drinks on the table, taking our orders. I had what I always had, chicken fried chicken and curly fries. Mom got her usual, fish and chips, country style. Dad got a baked potato with a side of mashed potatoes and a side salad. My dad, ladies and gentlemen.

"Anyway," said Dad around the interruption. "I'm just saying that I want to make sure you know what you're doing before you do something extreme like propose."

Mom started choking on the sip of soda she had just taken. Dad patted her on the back. Before Mom had regained her composure, I cut in.

"Dad," I said. "I'm sure."

"Sure?" he asked.

"I'm sure about her," I said. "Completely sure."

I pulled out the ring box and slid it to him.

He froze.

"No," he said in disbelief but no defiance.

He opened it and started bouncing in his seat, practically fanning himself.

"Oh buddy!" he said. "I completely agree! I knew it!"

"Dad!" I protested as he leaned a rounded the table and hugged me. "Could you take it down a notch? Small town. I would like her to know before absolutely everyone else."

"So much for making sure that he's sure," snorted Mom, somehow unsurprised.

"And she'll say yes?" he asked, a slightly dreamy look in his eyes.

I smiled, "If I'm sure of anything in this world, it's how I feel about her. If I'm sure of anything else, it's that I have faith that she loves me too. Seeing her and being with her, every day for the rest of forever... It's all I can ask of life."

"But there is more," said Dad. "Kids."

"Oh," said Mom. "She can't..."

Dad looked a little crestfallen.

"We will have kids when we're ready," I said. "They just won't be related to her."

"Wait," said Dad. "Have you and she-"

"No," I cut him off right there, feeling a sudden knife twisting in my gut.

Josie bounded through my thoughts and was gone again.

"No," I said again, more surely, more subdued. "No, we haven't."

My dad knew me well too.

"Josie," he said slowly, almost feeling it out. "You and Josie?"

It was more of a rhetorical question.

Mom looked between me and him, shocked.

"Yeah," I said, directly by not easily. It still ached how much I must have hurt her.

"When?" asked Mom.

I gave a shuttering sigh, "Before I left for Alaska. Like, an hour before."

"Oh no," moaned Mom in sympathy. "That's why. That's why she left. That's why Belinda isn't looking for her."

I shrugged.

"I don't know for sure," I said, "but that's probably it. She probably won't come back until I'm gone. I'll try to get word to her through my friends."

I'd let the pack know.

"Gone?" asked Dad.

Oh, right, duh.

"To school," I said, "in the fall."

"Right," Dad affirmed, then came up short. "Wait, what what? School? Where are you going to school?"

"You didn't tell him either?" asked Mom.

"I was going to," I said. "I just found out about getting in a few days ago. I just enrolled yesterday."

"None of this is telling me what school!" Dad said loudly enough that a waiter three tables way shot us a disapproving look.

"Dartmouth," I said.

There was a long pause.

"What the hell is going on?!" cried Dad. "When did you become this grown up person!? Where was I?"

"It has started coming together since Edwina's been back," I said. "This is the life I want. I'm living it."

That wasn't entirely true. The Edwina part was, but the what I wanted thing wasn't, not entirely. I hated lying to my parents, but what I was telling them was the lie they needed to hear. Going to college, being with Edwina, growing up, living my life; these were the only things about my future life I could share with them. But it wasn't the life I wanted.

Coming back from Italy had changed me in more ways than one. I had the right to make my own decisions. And once the craze of the whole experience had worn off, once the words that Auri and the others had said had settled in, I had the opportunity to step back and decide for myself what I wanted.

Edwina was a given. But also, I realized that my life was in jeopardy. I had come in contact with mythical creatures time and again, and if I didn't do something about this, I was going to die and soon. So I had two options. Change my life and move away from all things vampire, Edwina included, eventually finding myself running from the Volturi, or I could become a vampire.

It didn't just make logical sense; When I thought about it, I realized that it was truly what I wanted. I don't remember the exact moment I made the decision. Just as I wanted Edwina, that this was the path my life was taking me. I wanted to be what my Edwina was, so that our relationship could earnestly be between equals. But it was more than that. I wanted to be strong and smart and perfect, and if I was being perfectly honest, I wanted to feel beautiful. All the selfishly undeniable ways Edwina made me feel, I wanted to inspire in her. She said that I did already, but I wanted to feel it too.

And it was more than that still; I wanted independence in this mythical world. I wanted to be capable of defending myself and those that I loved and love, of keeping those that would take what I hold dear from me at bay. I wanted to be a creature of reckoning and use all that I could do to learn and appreciate the universe and grow and improve the world as I could. I wasn't sure how yet, but I wanted to figure that out.

So, college was plan B. I was telling my parents what I could, going about my life as was expected, but deep down, I knew that I was going to be a vampire as soon as I could. There were just two hangups.

One, the wedding. Assuming there was going to be a wedding, my parents would very much like to come. I knew that. There was every chance in the world that it would be this summer. I didn't have a whole lot else planned, other than preparations for school. I would let Alice iron out the details, but there was little doubt in my mind that she would have everything hammered out by then.

And two, Edwina. I had no doubt in my mind that she wanted me to remain human as long as possible. Occasionally, I would notice her staring at me with this sort of almost wistful expression, as though she would only be able to enjoy my humanity a short while longer. We haven't really talked about it since she has returned, and I am not sure how to go about doing it. I guess, secretly, I am so scared that if I bring it up, she will do everything she can to talk me down or avoid the subject. I want her to want me and to want this for me, and I don't want to have to take up Alice on her offer. I want Edwina to have me and keep me in this way too.

Our food came, and we chatted about this and that. Felicia was doing well, her career not taking off so much as going really well. Dad was teaching again, but it was at a local community college and they didn't really like being referred to as children or kids. Yeah, try explaining that to my father. Mom mentioned that she had been doing her usual fishing and had been spending some time down at La Push, with Stu Clearwater, helping him out since his wife died. As she was talking, my dad got this sort of half-smiling speculative look on his face, and I wondered what he was seeing that I wasn't. After we had wrapped up our meal, we were walking out to the car when Dad checked his watch.

"You can just drop me at your mom's," he said. "The shuttle will be coming to get me in less than an hour."

"You're not saying for the party?" I asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"Not this time, bud," he said. "Hey, why don't you come visit over the summer. Felicia and I would love to have you. There's a room at our new place with your name on it!"

Knowing Dad, he was being literal.

"I will if I can," I said. The very idea of being away from Edwina was making me feel uncomfortable.

"Okay," said Mom, "so Ray can drive us back and then you can just take the car over to Edwina's."

"Sounds good," said Dad.

And I realized the spell was over. My family, that hadn't been a family for so long that I forgotten what it was like to have this, being with them together like this, was breaking up again. I would have it again, once more, for the wedding, but that would be it. This too, like school, would be over. It wouldn't be the same at the wedding because it would feel so very much like saying goodbye. That was okay, though. I was going to have a new family soon. I was happy with that. So why did it feel like I was missing something?

I dropped my parents off, said my farewells to my dad, and then drove to the party.


	2. Chapter 2: Proposal (Edwina)

Edwina

If there is one thing that I will miss most about this time in our lives, it will be this; watching Ben sleep. I sit at the foot of his bed today in the early morning hours, my hands wrapped in blanket as I slowly massage his feet, a favorite pastime of mine when he is restful and less talkative. Earlier, he was so talkative that I attempted, as I am very fond of, to have a conversation with his sleeping self. It never amounts to anything cohesive or coherent, but I do very much enjoy the nonsensical and rambling sense his words take when he is sleepy and yet almost lucid. He mentioned something about me being his "Sunny girl" and missing "mustard eggs". I just smiled and gentled him into stillness again once our brief exchange was over.

Now, I listen as his mother gets up. Understanding the foundations of his floor better than anyone alive, I walk to the closet without making a sound, missing every creaking board. There, I hide as Carrie carefully opens the door and walks into his room quietly, carefully adjusting blankets and resting a hand on his forehead before walking out again. She is off to work, and Ben is sleeping in. He was up late last night.

The party was a smash, according to Alice. We had more people in our home than we ever had before. There was even a boy from Le Push there and was welcomed. We had a great selection of music, and even Rory and Emily seemed to enjoy themselves, back for a visit after spending a second honeymoon, that was really more of a twenty-second honeymoon, in Africa. After the initial shock and curiosity of being in a high-income home with a bunch of standoffish vampires, the children being to enjoy themselves. The snack food and drinks disappeared, and those that attempted to smuggle in alcohol or other drugs were asked to leave. The party lasted well into the night, and eventually, more than a few couple snuck off into the woods, doing what couples of that age do when they have the opportunity.

It isn't as though I am judging them. Ben and I snuck off a time or two to make out and be alone, which was exquisite in a way that has my toes curling just thinking about it. His warm self, pressed to my cool self, fire and ice, hard and soft, both in wonder and trembling. It was all that I could do to keep every kind of hunger I have for him in check. But every time I felt myself giving in, he would pull back, he would caress my face. He knew me so well, he could tell when I was slipping, being selfish, acting in my own self-interest and caring more about how good it felt than how good it was to be with him. He never did so in frustration or regretfully. He just let know what I couldn't see, and it made me love him every time he did it.

I return to Ben, climbing carefully onto the bed beside him, folding myself into him, the blanket between us, looking into his face as he slipped him arms about me, holding me to him even in sleep. I recalled the last moment, just before he drifted off last night, after he had barely made it into the bathroom to shower and change and barely made it into bed. I held him and murmured him to sleep, and he asked me to come with him to the meadow today. I said yes, without hesitation. Now, in the early hours of the morning, with the encroaching day upon us, I think about what that means.

Going to the meadow is largely symbolic. I can only think of two likely reasons that he would ask me there, both equally likely, given that Ben often surprises me. He either wants to discuss his transition to becoming a vampire or to discuss the possibility of us making love together.

I have given both a lot of thought, more than I think even he realizes. When it comes to making him a vampire, I have decided that it is something that I am willing to do. It is only logical. After all, to lose him would mean death to me. I am certain of this. The pain I endured upon believing he had died was worse than the worst possible pain I could have ever imagined. I can't place myself on a path where that is an end point, I simply cannot. So, that being said, I want Ben to experience as much as he can of this human life. I would not mind waiting until he was out of college, maybe old enough to appear as a peer to Katherine. After all, age means so little to me. I wouldn't mind forgoing high school for a life with him. I could pass for eighteen if I needed, and could pass for older with the right wardrobe and mannerisms. We could do as we wished, most anywhere so long as we stayed either out of the sun or the public eye, living with my family or apart. It is a future that I want so much I would almost go back on my design if pressed to, but I do not want to be a woman who goes back on her wishes for her loved one's happiness and benefit simply to get what she wants.

And Ben does make me feel like a woman. I have heard the colloquialism many times, but I didn't truly understand what it meant until I was with Ben. In the moments I am with him, when I am centered and thinking of him more than myself, when all my fears are laid by the wayside and his hands and mouth are upon me, we stop feeling like people or single selves. We are both, a whole onto ourselves, yet part of a whole together. We are no more or less than the very constructs of ourselves, flesh and bone, whether stone or calcium. We are less of consciousness and mind than we are of bodies and hearts, existing in the presence in a way that I didn't know that I truly could, focused and acting without worry or forethought or doubt. We are animals, primal and somehow as old as our species on the whole, yet operating at the peak of who and what we are, firing on all cylinders, as it were. And, in such times, we have halted ourselves, always at the brink.

I know the reasons I have done so. We haven't spoken about it, as we said that we would, and I have not, for the reason that doing so would reveal one of my greatest fears.

As I illustrated so dramatically to Ben, the first time in the meadow that we will be visiting very shortly today, my flesh might feel like hard stone to him, but to others of my own kind, I am soft. As true as the statement was, I cannot abide the idea that he doesn't fully understand what that could mean for us when applied to the idea of us being together. The thought is so abhorrent! But, in truth, we might not be able to be together, not as we are, mortal and immortal, because of the disparities between our anatomy. The inadequacy we both could feel... it isn't something I think either one of us would take lightly. My fears about it are so poignant and vast, I find it hard to even voice them to myself, let alone him. And yet, if he has courage enough to ask, I can have courage enough to answer.

After a couple more hours of sleep, he begins to rouse. I notice his heart and his blood flow first, as always, and then his breathing and then his faint restlessness and he begins to pull himself out of sleep. At last, his hands reaches, settling on a part of my anatomy that I am quite sure he has yet to touch upon me consciously. It takes him a moment to realize what he has done, and in his sleep-addled state, he nearly backs into the wall behind his head before I can catch him up, laughing quietly to myself.

"I'm sorry," he says blearily.

"For what?" I ask, knowing full well for what. He is still so chaste, I almost wish that he weren't. Almost.

"Because," he says, still half asleep, "when I touch you like that, it should be my decision, not a happy accident."

His answer floors me, as they often do. Before he is quite up for it, I am kissing him, rather intently, but withheld, allowing him to meet me or stop, as he will. As it turns out, half asleep or not, he is rather fond of kissing me. It is a moment later that he has rolled onto me, his hand pinning my arms, something I think we both enjoy quite a lot, and his warm mouth against my lips, his tongue forming itself to mine. Then he finally seems to reach his limit and he rolls to one side, gasping.

"Better than coffee," he says, leaving me grinning.

Getting up, he begins looking into his closet for clothing, and I watch, hiding my smile, as he pulls out the same outfit he wore on our last trip to the meadow. These items alone seem to be all that is left from his wardrobe before, other than his jeans. Take them in turn, he heads for the bathroom, as is his morning routine.

I lay in his bed, stretching out completely, basking his scent and his warmth before getting up and walking around the room. I look at everything, as I always do, but this time, as I am looking, it really dawns on me that this is the beginning of the end of my time here. This room, which was never mine, holds such importance to me, such meaning. It bears the sort of reverence a museum might or a church, a place of intense fulfillment and respect, where I come to find meaning and understanding.

But now, Ben has graduated. He will not be calling this place home for long. If it holds such meaning for me, I can only imagine what it must be like for him.

He returns from the bathroom, smelling faintly of toothpaste and antibacterial soap, his short hair damp, his smile broad.

"What are you doing?" he asks, seeing me standing before his desk, looking over the old computer and his former school binders and spirals.

"You're leaving," I say.

He looks stunned for a moment, "No, I'm not."

I smile, walking forward and placing my hips to his, leaning back so that I may still observe him fully as I hold the small of his back for support.

"You are," I say, "in the fall. You are going to move out of your home."

He smiles, understanding. I love that expression.

"Yeah," he says, "but it isn't as though I have never moved before."

"But this was your room," I point out, "your first room. This is the home you were born into, the one you came back to. And now, you are never going to call it home again. There is some really deep meaning in this. How do you feel about it?"

He studies my face, and I can almost see him starting to understand. He doesn't take my question at face value, as so many might. He looks into me and sees that I am asking because I want to be there for him and that I want to help him to express himself. I am offering him the chance to tell the truth about himself, not just react to a question or defend himself from another's opinion. As soon as he sees that, he seriously considers my question.

"This is my home," he says, "and it some ways it always will be, whether I live here or not. Until my mother no longer lives here, which will be in the event of her death knowing my mother, I will be welcome here."

Without realizing it, he has touched upon something vital. His mother will die some day, and, should he have his way, he will be exponentially more likely to be there to see it happen. If that is what today is about, his transformation, then this is a rather important part of that conversation.

"But," he goes on, "in other ways, this was never my home because I wasn't invested in it. This is a room where I can safely sleep and keep my things, where I return to each day. But my life, who I am, is not defined by this little room, by a place."

He looks into my eyes, and something in me feels weak, almost fragile when he looks at me like that. Another part feels stronger, as though I can do anything, as he thinks I can, as he believes in me.

"No matter where I live," he says, "a building is just a building. Where I belong, where my home is, is with you. Where that is doesn't matter, is incidental. My heart, my place, is with you."

I am sure that he means to go on, but it just takes too much effort not to kiss him. He doesn't seem to mind too terribly much as I press my lips to his. He runs his hands over my hair and strokes my face before we finally part.

"I want to invest in you," I say. "I want to build a home with you, if not literally."

I grin at him, kissing him one last time, briefly.

"What do you want for breakfast?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow, "I was going to make something simple, light, and brief. After all the junk food I ate last night, I need to mellow out."

"Fine," I say, filing away Belgian Pancakes and elaborate French Toast recipes. "Fine. Shall we?"

We descend to the kitchen, and Ben makes up a bowl of homemade cereal. He eats rather thoroughly, as I quickly find ingredients for simple sandwiches, which Ben's mother seems to keep a lot of in the icebox. After making a number of sandwiches and finding a small cooler to keep them in, Ben has finished his food and is cleaning his bowl.

"Shall we drive part of the way?" I ask.

He smiles, "Can't you just run us there?"

I smile in return, "If you like."

Before I can comment, he sidles up behind me, and something almost instinctive pulls through me as he is pressed against my back, his arms enfolding my shoulders. I feel the pitch of my hips wanting to shift invitingly, but I am used to denying my hungers. I take his weight easily, moving to the door briefly, crossing through it and closing it behind us. Ben is offering me the key exactly when I need it, and I lock the door with my free hand, my other holding him and the cooler both. Once we are clear of the house and into the woods, I begin to run.

The trip to the meadow is easy. I am not as worried as I was the last time I ran with him from there. I take the quickest route, not concerning myself with paths humans could easily take, over large rocks and up or down vast slopes. In a few minutes, we are there.

I slow enough that when I get there, I drop. The cooler lands perfectly at the edge, still in view, as we tumble into the warm, only slightly damp grass. I catch him and keep him from landing poorly, but don't keep him cocooned in my protection as I once might have. We come to a skidding stop, him upon me, my clothing taking the brunt of the grass and dirty. We are laughing and close and it is amazing.

"You tripped?" he asks.

"Don't be absurd," I reply, giggling. "I just thought that might be fun."

"Fun?" he asks skeptically. "How is falling fun?"

"Was it?" I ask in turn from under brows tilted towards him.

"Maybe," he said, grinning challengingly at me.

I am suddenly very aware that his hand is on my hip and his eyes are heated. We proceed to make out for some glorious minutes, by which time, my head is swimming in sensation, and I must stop or I am going to want to start pressing.

We come up for air, and we sit up and look around our meadow. It is more lovely than it was the first time we came here. The flowers are in full bloom, the birds singing, and the sun just might break through the clouds at times here. It is practically idyllic.

"So," I say, taking his hand and pressing it to my face, breathing deep his scent and trying, as I sometimes do, to deconstruct it into its finer and subtler bouquets, "are you going to make me guess why we are here or will you simply tell me?"

He stares at me a moment.

"Do you really not know?" he asks, and I get the impression that it cost him something to even admit there is a bigger reason for us being her than to just be here.

I look at him, "Should I know?"

"Maybe," he admits. "My mom knew. There wasn't an easy way for me to ask her not to think about it around you."

Drat. Well, his mother knowing doesn't fit with either of my theories. Back to the drawing board.

"Oh," I say. "Well, I can easily answer that. I can't read your mother mind."

He looks shocked, "Huh?"

It turns out, I love that expression too.

I giggle, "I have never been able to read your mother's mind. I think that is, in part, where you get it from. I can get some things from her, but it is like trying to see a painting by hue, a color at a time. I get single strong thoughts or intense emotions, but that is about it."

He looks at me for a short moment, his expression melting away, relaxing into calm. I wonder if he even knew that he was so tense.

"So you really don't know?" he asks.

"No," I say more fully.

"Why did you think we might be out here?" he asks.

I grin, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

He raises his eyebrows.

"Tempting," he says, drawing out the word. "By not really fair. I... I kinda thought this would be easier."

"Easier?" I ask. "What is it?"

He looks slightly panicked.

"No," he says, "it isn't hard to say, or ask, or whatever. It's just that..."

He gets up and starts pacing.

"Edwina," he says, and there is a worry in his voice. "You aren't human."

"Very true," I agree, trying not to smile.

"But that doesn't mean you're not a girl," he says. "You aren't a girl like Alice, but still, you're a girl. And you deserve every chance to feel like one that you can get. It isn't because you aren't human. It's because being young and in love is good and wondrous and should be everything we hope it to be. Just because our relationship is a bit unorthodox doesn't mean we should have to give up on anything that helps make life feel worth living."

"I want to make love to you," I say. I'm fairly certain it was me. It was my voice saying the words with my mouth and lips. It takes me a minute to find the part of my brain that decided it might be a good idea to say that.

"I..." he says, and promptly quits pacing. And sits down.

"I..." he says again, "was not expecting that."

"Neither was I," I say, a bit flustered myself.

"What brought that on?" he asks.

"Oh," I say, "it was just one of the things I thought this trip could be about."

"Ah," he says, looking around. "If that had been the case, I probably would have brought a blanket."

Suddenly, a mental image wafts it's way through my thoughts, of us, lying, naked, upon the grass, basking in the afterglow of our time together, our clothing strewn about us. It is quickly chased by an image of us, dejected and feeling raw, Ben trying to hide a wince of discomfort as we redress, our pairing unsuccessful.

"I'm scared," I say, and before I can say more, Ben is beside me. My hand is in his.

"Tell me," he says. I smile.

"I'm afraid that we won't... be able to, as we are," I say, wondering how I could have ever thought this was hard.

"With me as a human, you mean?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say.

"Well," he says, a hint of a smile upon his lips, "there's one sure fire way to check."

He pounces on me, and I laugh, rolling into the grass with him again, and he is laughing too.

"You prove an interesting point," I say, then sober. "But... what if-"

"So what?" he asks rhetorically. "If it doesn't work, then nothing changes. We haven't lost anything. What you are talking about is losing a possibility, and that is all in your head. It doesn't matter to me. It's not like I'm here for the sex. If we have to wait until I'm a vampire, then we wait. We can still try, if you want."

I'm still scared. Happy, but scared.

"Yes," I say. "I want to. Not immediately, but let's plan something. Soon."

I consider the bed I finally had installed in my room.

"Before we do," he says, "there's something I need to ask-"

My phone rings.

I look down, as though by doing so, my questioning expression might be answered.

"I've never heard your phone ring before," he says.

"That's because it only rings if one person calls me, other than you," I say.

"Answer," he says. And I do.

Alice is speaking so fast, only our kind could keep up.

"One or more of the wolf women are coming here," she says, her words little more than a high pitched hum. "She or they will be in the back woods in four minutes. I can't see what happens. Bring Ben. Because! He is the only one who has a chance at diplomacy. Yes, I'm guessing! You know how obnoxious that is! Don't argue! Just come. Emanuel is worried and Katherine is at the hospital. Emily isn't exactly keeping her head either. Hurry! I'm scared too. And tell Ben that I'm sorry."

I hung up.

"Alice says she's sorry," I say. "But one or more of the wolves are coming to our house. We're needed there now. We have four minutes."

Ben found his feet immediately, as I knew he would.

"Let's go," he says.

Something twists in me. Alice may not know what is going to happen, but I have a feeling this is not going to be good. From the moment the Blacks came back into Ben's life, the wolves have been a major complication. Even if I can never repay Josie Black for what she did for Ben and thus me, I do not know how to be okay with Ben having renewed or continued contact with the wolves. I trust Ben when he tells me his heart is mine, but change is universal constant and can turn even the most stable of institutions.

My moment of hesitation is too fast for him to notice. I grab him and the sandwiches and run home.

We get there with time enough to spare. After leaving the cooler on the back porch, we stop beside the group, just this side of the stream that runs through our back yard.

Jasper and Emily flank us, with Alice and Emanuel near the center. I come to stand between them, letting Ben step down beside me.

"A bit longer," says Alice, and I nod.

"No idea who it is?" asks Ben.

"No," Alice practically growls, for Alice. Ben doesn't notice.

"So," says Emily, "what's the plan?"

"The plan is," says Emanuel, "to wait and see what comes to pass. I do not believe this is an attack. We have done nothing to provoke them. Unless something has changed about their nature, this will likely be a visit or a conference."

I am not sure I can agree with that. They may have decided that my relationship with Ben cannot be tolerated. I do not know how much he has told Josie. I didn't ask and he didn't tell. But if she knows where Ben's path is leading, then the treaty will inevitably be broken. They may decide to be preemptive.

It is then when something whispers into my thoughts. There is another mind out there, and it's getting closer. Not as fast as a wolf or a vampire, but faster than any unassisted human can run.

"Edwina is starting to fade," says Alice. "How many is it?"

I search the surrounding woods.

"Just one, I believe," I say.

Then, there is no doubt. It is Jocelyn Black.

She is in human form, running fast. Her mind is practically sagging, a strange sort of undercurrent to her thoughts. There is a weight upon her, bending every thought, guiding her every action, pulling on her like gravity, like a boulder in a stream, stemming and altering her usual flow. Also, she is in intense pain. It is so intense, I almost can't hide how hard it hits me. It is not something a human could endure. It is so intense, I can feel it pushing her past her noticeable endurance for such plights. Her thoughts are a constant mantra with her mind.

 _I need a doctor._

She gets close enough that she might hear us, close enough that we can definitely hear her, and stops, sniffing the air.

"Can you hear me?" she asks, with the same volume a conversational human might use.

"Yes," says Emanuel, with the same volume.

Ben looks around, trying to make sense of the word.

"I need a doctor," she says.

"My mother is at the hospital," I say, "but I can assist you."

I got a sudden mental image of a girl of about seven in a doctor's coat with a stethoscope in her ears, her hands hidden in too long sleeves.

"I assure you," I say, "I'm quite able. I have two doctorates, one in Internal Medicine, the other in Surgery."

She frowns and thinking about waiting until Katherine returned.

"Please," I say. "If you're in pain, there's no reason for you to wait."

There is a moment of stunned silence, and then, so sharp, so loud, I am unable to keep the shock off my face, she thinks, _GET OUT OF MY HEAD!_

I stagger, and Alice holds me, Ben taking my arm as well.

"What is it?" he asks. "Who's out there?"

His presence registers with Josie, but she doesn't believe it, her anger at me dissolving into shock. She takes a deep sniff of the air, only believing that Ben is here when she takes in the faint traces of his scent.

Memory assaults me. That's the only way I have to describe it. It is too fast for me to take it all in without breaking it down, but it is potent and deeply emotional. She loves him, loved him, hated him, missed him, wanted him, wanted to kill him, wanted to die, wanted me to die, wanted him to choose between us, wanted him to kill me, wanted him to die defending her, and just about every deeply selfish or stupid or selfless combination therein. It hit me so hard I had to lean in Alice or I would have fallen. I began trying to make sense of it all, but it was heady and thick and confused and hard to take. Her hate for me was so intense, her anger at Ben was so inexorable, it is like trying to handle flame without the protection of immortality.

"What is he doing here?" she demands, her voice thick with emotion.

"We didn't know who was coming," says Alice. "We wanted to be diplomatic if we could."

"He betrayed us!" she nearly shouted.

Ben stands straighter.

"Josie?" he asks. His voice sounded fragile, sounded half hopeful, half terrified.

She shakes her head in denial, trying to ignore how much it pleases her, both truly and vindictively, to hear him sound that way.

"This was a mistake," she says, sounding unsure.

"Josie?" says Ben again. "Josie? If you are hurt... Please. I... Let them help you."

She drew in a shuttering breath. There is something deep in her, a fear and a pain that she was trying to bury, beyond what she felt towards me and Ben. It is a burden that seemed somehow foisted upon her, yet somehow self-imposed, full of toil and strife and not regret, but something very much like self-recrimination mixed with doubt and suffering. And then, she decides to shove this one small act wholly on Ben's shoulders. She decides he asked for this. Walking forward, she makes it just to where the trees are still hiding her and then she leaps, over the stream. Landing out of combat range, still in her human for, and she stands, resilient and proud. And then everything fits neatly and irrevocably into place.

She looks at Ben, and despite her stony expression, her mind is a wash of memory, poignant and clear. She sees him as a young boy, completely unaware of his affect on her. She sees him on the beach the night he discovered what I was, wrapped up in the story as she believed he had been wrapped up in her. She sees him the night I eavesdropped, so open and handsome and carefree. She sees him in his room, destroyed after I...

I fall to my knees. How he looked, how I left him, the hurt I caused. I'm not sure if she is doing it on purpose to hurt me, but she keeps going, relentlessly.

Ben, changed, looking at her with a hard, angry expression, pain and emptiness carved into every feature, his hair all shaved away, his body honed to an athletic grace, flowing with the barb of a threat. I see him lusting for her in her eyes, the pleasure she took in that, the desperate desire to give in, and her ability to hold off his advances. I see her decide to be with him, then lose everything to the wolf she became. I see her gain it back, starting to connect with him in ways I hadn't, see more of his body than I ever had, take steps down a path towards building a life that I never did. I see him soften to her, could feel the love she felt for him grow, continuously exceeding expectations. I see the attack, him becoming one of us, venom in his veins. I can feel it all, the heartache, the feeling of inevitability, and the pain when she finally decides to draw the venom out of him. And then, the most unendurable; them, together.

I see him as he had never been with me. I feel him as I have never felt him, with hands that are not my own. I feel him pull and push and touch and inspire sensations I have only ever felt in others, in the minds of young girls since I had the ability to see it, but never like this; never with someone I love, with someone I wanted, with the lovely boy who's body I know almost as well as I know my own. I feel her unabashed joy at the truly perfect moment it was, withheld until the undeniably right moment, a moment that had meant the world to her, which meant everything that it would have meant to me.

I lost him. This piece of him, this part of what we could have had, what I never knew I wanted so desperately to have, and now, it is gone. How can losing something that I never let myself admit that I desired hurt so much? Why do I feel like I am losing him?

Because I am. I see that too. Her finding her blood-lust, her desire for meat, raw and on the bone, the speed at which her stomach distends, grows, the life within her, made of her, and of Ben.

Am... Am I crying? Why aren't there tears in my eyes? My face feels cold. My hands quiver. My body wants to fly apart, to crack and splinter. Before, her thoughts were like handing coals. Now, it's like handling liquid nitrogen, like holding dwarf star matter. There is a singularity, a black hole, where my heart once was.

The child. The child! I can hear it now, strange that I couldn't until I knew to listen. They are very uncomfortable, their confines too small now. They are ready to be free, unbounded, but they are hurting Josie, and they don't know how to stop. It is time now, but they are reluctant. They don't how to do what they must without hurting their mother.

I realize in that moment that my family is the only one that has noticed me. Josie only has eyes for Ben, the abandoner, the heartbreaker, the perceived liar. And Ben can only stare at her, round with child, her stomach bruised by the child, the discoloration fading before our eyes.

But then, the truth comes to me. It has been five weeks since the child's conception, short by maybe seven hours. In no world is that even close to a normal human gestation. How long is the period for wolves? Would she even know? What has happened here?

And then, with a Herculean effort, I take all my hurt, all my sadness, all my regret, and shove it by the wayside, wall it away in my mind. I have a patient, in pain, who is in full term pregnancy, about to pop, and I need to help her.

I immediately ramble off what I need to Alice and Emanuel, who blur off to do what needs to be done. Emily and Jasper stand nearby, but Emily is enthralled with the pregnant girl. They don't see danger from her, which is likely. I see in Jasper that she is very angry and uncomfortable and hurting, but she is not aggressive or dangerous emotionally. Emily would be just as happy if she did start fighting. Either way, something interesting and fun is happening.

"Josie," I say, and she finally turns to me. "You haven't seen anyone? A doctor, while you were away?"

She shakes her head, and I can see in her thoughts that it's true.

"We don't have anything here in the way of radiological equipment," I say. "It isn't common practice to be performing sonograms around here. Has labor begun? Contractions or has your water broken?"

She shook her head minimally. Her pain is intense.

"Okay," I say. "I can attempt to induce labor, but that will require a trip to the hospital for supplies, to which my father is already attending. I have everything here we might need to do a cesarean, should the need arrive. Otherwise, I can make you comfortable until he returns."

"Whatever," she says, but I see beyond her pride. She is going to collapse soon. I take her upstairs to my mother's study, quickly converted into a makeshift operating room. While we don't have everything we might need, fabricating improvised furniture is much easier when commonplaced items are replaced with practically unlimited funds and those doing the improvising have unusual speed and strength. If one was to raise the sheets would one be able to tell that this space was less than professional.

She settles onto the bed immediately.

"I can't give you an epidural until my father returns," I inform her clinically. "I can give you some pain killers and a mild local-"

"Do it already," she bites through her pain, thinking, _I don't need to see the math_.

I do as I am bidden, though it takes me several attempts to get enough in her system for her to start to relax, her metabolism is so high.

It isn't until she is settled and somewhat more comfortable that I check on the child.

They are uncomfortably confined and want to come out, and they have an instinct that they are not supposed to be born in the traditional way. I get the impression of biting and chewing from them, but an intense reluctance. They do not want to injure Josie, either by staying or going. They sense more is going on out here, and knows that with change comes different opportunities. Most of what I am getting I must paraphrase, but the mind is amazingly advanced and understanding for an unborn child.

It isn't until Josie speaks that I realize we aren't alone.

"What are you doing here?" she asks harshly.

I sense Ben at the door. I can see him through her eyes, and there is no mistaking how torn he is looking at her.

I take a moment and calculate odds, possibilities.

"You don't belong here, Ben," I say in the same voice I used for patient's relatives when I practiced medicine with Katherine.

Immediately, Josie's defensive instincts and contrary nature flared.

Ben looks hurt and even more conflicted, but is cowed and ready to retreat. Turning from me, seeing me as harsh and unforgiving, he looks to her.

"Do you want me to go?" he asks her.

She glares, but at me, not at him. She is trying to figure out if I am being as manipulative as she thinks I am, but confirming her suspicions isn't the point.

"It is up to you," I say, which is true. But ultimately, if her anger is focused more on me than him and she feels like she has a choice, that gives Ben the highest chance of being present for the birth of his child.

I am able to conceal my momentary lapse of concentration and reseal the wall between my conscious mind and my current emotional turmoil.

"Give us a minute," she says to Ben. I know she is talking to him, but he doesn't. When I glance at him, he looks unsure, but then comprehends the meaning of her words and becomes even more anxious as he considers what might be exchanged between us in his absence. Without a word, he turns, closes the door and goes downstairs.

"I hate you," she says acidly.

"I know," I reply simply.

It takes a moment for find her next words.

"Yes," I say before she can find the most hurtful ways the phrase her question. "We are together again."

She glares more, "Ben wasn't exaggerating your ability."

I shake my head, "May I examine you?"

She waves a hand, and I give her another injection as I can sense her pain starting to return again.

I gently probe her stomach, discovering that the amniotic sac is incredibly resilient, something akin to vampire skin. I am suddenly even more curious. The easiest way to get through vampire skin is with vampire teeth. Does this child share something in common with my kind? How is that even possible? Ben was the father, of that I have no doubt. How could this be? But that would explain the very advanced facilities of the child.

I wish that I could ask, but Josie has no better idea than I do. As I consider if there is some way to find the root of this mystery, I realize that Josie has a staggering number of questions. She is unsure what to ask because she thinks I'll lie to her.

"I won't lie," I say. "It is only fair, considering you cannot lie to me. But what would you like to know? Simply thinking a question isn't enough. It's too easy to think a question you truly don't want to know the answer to."

She considers.

"Are you going to make him a vampire?" she asks.

I finish my preliminary exam, marking down heart rate for her and the child, check her blood pressure with my fingers, along with additional notes and observations.

"Yes," I say. "We haven't discussed it, and there isn't a current time frame established or anything. But, when he's ready and he chooses, what else can I do? It's what he wants."

"You'd be breaking the treaty," she says, doggedly determined to have me change my mind.

"That's up to you," I say. "Ben is making an informed decision, against my recommendations."

She came up short, "You don't want him to be a vampire?"

I look into her eyes, dark and vulnerable somehow, yet stern and proud.

"I want him to have everything," I say. "Being a vampire is a decision he cannot undo. If he is to leave his humanity behind, I would want him to have every human experience he can first. I don't know how long it will be, but I can't imagine him wanting to wait long."

She sets her jaw, "He waited for me."

I nod, "That's true."

"Maybe he should wait now," she says.

"That's up to him," I say. "I've given up on trying to decide for him."

"Give me a chance," she almost demands, desperately. "Things are different now. I know I can convince him to stay human. He deserves a chance at a normal life."

I look at her. It wouldn't take a telepath to see what she's after.

"No," I say. "I left once. It was the worst decision I ever made. I won't repeat it. He is free to choose what he would like to do. So am I."

She looked hard at me, "You would just give him up without a fight?"

I raise my eyebrows at her, "I want Ben to be happy. If I have to let him go, I will, even if I don't want to."

There is a long pause.

"He loves you," I say.

She looks at me as though she has just remembered that I am poisonous.

"What you did for him," I went on, "helping him back to being the man we both know he is after I left was an amazing gift. It broke his heart to leave you, to never get the chance to be honest with you, to take responsibility for the hurt he caused you. I'm sure he has a lot to say about it, and I won't rob him of that. But, understand this;"

I want to take her hand, to offer her some contact, some way to ground her in this moment, to convey to her that I am not as worthy of hate as she seems to think I am. But, like Ben, it is not up to me to choose for her.

"You are important to Ben," I say. "If you two are willing to work through that distance, the differences between you, I won't do anything to try and prevent you from having a place in his life."

I looked at her rounded stomach, trying desperately to keep my emotions in check.

"Even if that means that you became a more important part of it than me," I go on.

She stares at me, equal parts denial, horror, and suspicion on her face.

"You have had something with him that I never had," I admit, "something with him I will never have. Who am I to try and take that away, to deny that, simply to keep him for myself? How could I claim to care for him and act so selfishly? He deserves better."

Her eyes go wide.

"You..." she swallows and tries again, "You love him. You really do love him."

I nod.

"He is everything to me," I say. "He means more than my own life."

She snorts, sounding like Ben.

"Doesn't sound very healthy," she commented.

I smile, "You're probably right. But even if he does decide to move away from me and towards you, I don't regret a thing."

I realize that I am not lying or deluding myself. Never being with Ben again isn't the worst thing that could happen, and neither is not have been together with him. Him, alive and happy, somewhere in the world, even if my part in his life is so very limited, is worth living for.

She cries out sharply, the baby trying to shift position without moving as much as possible. They instantly feel remorse and frustration.

"What do you know about the child?" I ask.

"Little," she says. "I feel like I'm about to burst ann it's been a bit over a month."

"Five weeks," I say, "to the day."

She blinks at me, "Is that a weird leech thing?"

I ignore the attempt at a slur, "Yes. My brain functions-"

"I don't really care," she says, cradling her stomach. "So yeah, short pregnancy. I start eating raw meat, and... I had cravings."

"Cravings?" I ask.

She glares at me, "I drank the blood too. It... It actually tasted good. I wanted to puke, but it was just so good. Is it like that for you all too? Really, really good?"

I nod, "It is the most gratifying meal multiplied by the most enjoyable sex multiplied by the most addicting drug. Consider that, and you have some idea."

She nods, "Yeah. It wasn't that strong, but yeah. I liked it. I needed it."

"I do not know what is happening here," I admit. "I believe that you are not going to be able to give birth normally. A cesarean section is your best bet. Your baby is ready."

Her eyes go wide, "You... You can read..."

"Yes," I say. "I can. They are-"

"They?!" she practically screamed.

I raised a hand, "They as in the gender neutral article, instead of saying he or she."

She placed a hand over her thundering and dislocated heart, shifted horizontally by her child.

"By the ancestors," she says in Quileute, then in English, "don't do that! Just say she until we know for sure. You're going to give me a heart attack over here."

"She," I reiterated, "is ready to be born. She knows what she needs to do, but she's afraid of hurting you. I can help."

The child is listening. She doesn't truly understand, but she feels Josie starting to relax and listens to my words too. She can hear fairly well but does not know what my words mean. She thinks I sound... good? Kind? Pleasing? Something akin to that.

"Help then," she says. "If we can't induce or whatever, then do your thing."

I nod, "I can set you up with a powerful local and do the procedure quickly. Afterward, you will need to recover for several-"

I make some informed estimations, "hours, then you should be fine to stand and move about. I will just need to sterilize-"

"No," she demands, "no sterilizing, no worrying about pain. Just give me what you can, and get my baby out. It hurts and she's ready. She needs to be out. Now!"

I consider.

"Ben?" I ask.

"After," she says quickly, then sucks in. The baby stretches, and new bruise bloom across her distended stomach. She hisses.

"Now!" she demands.

We have waited long enough. I inject a local, giving her ten percent more than I equate with her current dosages. I do not wait for the drug to spread, against my better judgment. I make my first incision, ignoring her restrained gasp through gritted teeth, and realize that I will have to improvise in more ways than one.

Even upon the first cut, I see that I will be fighting her biology as I continue the procedure. As I watch, I can see her flesh begin to knit itself back together before my eyes. Withdrawing the uterus through the incision is unwise. I might have to perform a second operation to get it back inside. Instead, I move to continue cutting through to the uterus, glad that her healing blood vessels are keeping far more blood within her body than a human's would.

Everything is fine until I hit a snag. As I attempt to part the amniotic sac, the scalpel grinds and nearly snaps.

It is my turn to hiss as I try again, grabbing a large instrument with little success.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

Then it clicks in my mind.

"I don't have time to explain or argue," I say. "Hold still!"

She does, looking scared.

With a fierce determination, I grip her hips to steady her, in that she might react too strongly to control herself. Keeping her burning flesh still, I bow my head to the exposed sac and rip through it with my teeth.

There is a sound, familiar to me, of vampire teeth parting vampire flesh, akin to shrieking metal, shredding steel. I open a gap wide enough and feel tiny hands suddenly touching my face, shocked. I have no time to marvel. I pulled the child from... his mother. With a deft hand, I tear away her shirt. Laying the child on her bare torso, I quickly towel him, drying all but his hands. I wrap him in a clean cloth, clear of the opening in his mother's abdomen.

"Wait," I order. "Leave him be. Let him latch on his own. Just keep the cloth around him."

I finish my work, removing all that I can from her uterus while the opening remains, not wanting to cut her again. I believe I got all of it, but the vampire tissue was hard to maneuver, even with my strength. I don't bother with sutures, simply holding her tissue securely together until the outer layers have sealed themselves.

I move up to the patient to find the boy is close to nursing for the first time. As he approaches, he has the instinct to bite the warm flesh beneath him.

"No," I say, patting his back. To my surprise, he lifts his head and looks at me, nearly completely aware. He understands the negation for what it is and connects it to his instinct. He is confused but he smells the milk from his mother, and when suckling comes into his mind, I smile, and he understands. With a heretofore unheard of dexterity for a child so young, he maneuvers himself into position and nurses, not looking tired, but feeling contentment, freedom. He is lost in wonder at the world, the new sensations.

I look to Josie. She is at a loss. She is holding him to her, completely wordless awe settling about her. Her baby sees her looking at him, and smiles, continuing his suckling. Her mind is nearly blank, aside from the here and now. Her baby is her entire world.

I check the vitals of mother and child. Both are sound. I mark them down.

"I'll be back in a moment," I say. I step outside, disrobe in my room, bag my soiled clothing. Luckily, wolf blood is less appealing than, well, wolf blood. I briefly shower off any residue, towel dry in a few seconds, change into new garments then head downstairs.

The living room is nearly silent. My family is standing around, each a statue in their various states of unease. Emanuel, at least, is sitting beside Ben, a hand on his shoulder, as he pretty much curls into himself in worry, concern, disgust, and pain.

As soon as he sees me, he is on his feet.

"They're fine," I say, and he is unsteady as he considers it all.

"I-" I begin, but am distracted by the sounds of breaking glass and running feet.

"What-?" asks Ben, but all of my family is at the back window, and I just catch a glimpse in Jasper's mind as he spots the last of her, wrapped in a sheet, caring her baby, running straight for La Push.

"She's gone," says Emily.

"Gone?" demands Ben. "What do you mean gone?"

"It looks like she's heading home," says Emily.

"We have to go after her!" cries Ben. "Why did she leave?! What is happening!?"

I take him into my arms. He fights at first but soon relents.

"She's scared," I say. "That's why people run."

"But..." Ben says, holding back tears. "But... I just got her back..."

I look at him. I can't decide for him anymore. If I was him, I would let her go, let her relax, let the fear dissipate. But I'm not him. I know what he wants.

I hold him close for long minutes, waiting until he has control of himself, until his fear isn't in control of him. He pulls back and looks at me, and there is only compassion in my face. I wipe away his tears.

"Are you sure?" I ask. He knows what I mean. He understands what I am asking. He nods.

"I'll get the keys," I say. "I can't go onto their land, but I'll wait at the border. You can take the car."

Ben says nothing. We get in the car and drive. I ignore the fears of my family. I am here for Ben.

We are nearing the border when I see her. One of the wolf women, in human form, standing in the road, just before the edge of their land. There are also two wolves to either side of the road, far back in the trees, ready to spring as necessary, hidden from all but my ability to sense their minds. I stop the car a respectful distance back. Ben and I exit the car. I do my best to stand ready to defend him, doing so without his notice.

"Sam," says Ben, his tone dry. "Funny meeting you here."

She doesn't look amused.

"You aren't welcome here," she says heavily, her tone thick but not threatening.

"I'm not passing onto your land," I say. "I am to remain here. The treaty stands."

I read her thoughts. She wasn't talking to me.

"By decree of the Alpha," she says, "Ben Hawkins is not welcome on our land."

"What do you-" Ben stops. He closes his eyes, a long blink. And then I see it.

The red-brown wolf, huge, taller now than Sam, standing her ground, the newborn strong enough to cling in her fur, holding under her belly, still nursing, protected, her will crushing the pack, bending it, surpassing Sam, taking a role she had long relinquished.

"Go home, Ben," she says. "You are not welcome here."

She doesn't want to say the words. She truly has nothing against Ben and doesn't understand why he needs to be barred. She doesn't understand and is as confused as Ben. But orders are orders.

I reach out, and I can sense something of Josie in the wolves beside us in the woods. I know that she sees, that she knows what is happening here.

"It's alright," I find myself saying. Ben looks at me, part in anger, part in disbelief.

"We'll go," I say, walking to Ben, but not touching him, not coercing him to leave. "But could you carry a message to Jocelyn for us."

Sam does nothing but stare unblinkingly at me. In her mind, I see that I am right, that Josie is listening through the minds of the two wolves, the ones that do not know that I know they are there.

"We understand," I say. "Even if Ben doesn't yet, I will help him to see. As to the questions she seeks answers to, we will be seeking them as well. We may find things that she cannot. We have resources she doesn't. We are always willing to share. Despite her fears, she will be as safe with us as she was today."

I turn, preparing to leave when Ben finally breaks.

"What?" he demands. "That's it? We just walk away?"

I look back to him, "What more can you do?"

"No!" he complains. "I can't! I can't just walk away from this, from her, not again! Not now! I... I..."

He falls to his knees. Sam gets there before me, and he doesn't hit hard. She looks into his eyes, trying to speak, but her lips and jaw won't seem to cooperate. Ben looks at her, shocked.

"She is going too far," says Ben, stating a fact. Sam gives him a completely blank look that I can sense is an affirmative.

Ben considers, "Tell her she can always call me. No matter what, I'm here."

He turns and heads back to the car. I follow.

Once I am driving, I take my time. He stares blankly out the front window. Finally, I am about to ask where he wants to go when he speaks.

"Just take me home," he says. It seems as though he had been waiting for me to speak so he could cut me off. I drive him home. When I pull up, he doesn't look at me. He doesn't speak. His expression doesn't even change. He opens the door and walks inside. Once upstairs, he closes and locks his bedroom window.

For the first time since my return, I lose myself completely. The day, the emotion, all of it, swallows me whole. When I come back to myself, I am in my room, looking out upon the encroaching night, my sister holding tight to me, just being with me.

"Tell me," I say.

 _Welcome back_ , she thinks.

"It is the same but different," she says.

She shows me. Ben's future is as it was; the dichotomous images, him dead by my deed superimposed over the image of him, immortal and glorious. But now, nearly half the time, it flickers. It disappears and returns. It changes rapidly back and forth between itself and nothing. I hold tighter to her.

"I could lose him," I say.

She shakes her head.

"I am not so sure," she says. "I do not know what this means. He could be unsure about what path his life could take, or she might be unsure how much she wants him involved with his child. I can't see him either. Not even in flickers like I used to see his mother. This could be a wolf thing, or a strange baby thing, or something altogether new. Really I have no idea."

I nod.

"Everything will be alright," she says, kissing my cheek. "One way or the other, everything works out. You'll see."

I stay where I am as she leaves. Standing alone, I try to come to grips with the lesser of my problems, simply to be rid of it.

I am a virgin, and Ben is not. It seems so small a distinction, but I wouldn't have believed how much such a thing mattered to me. I thought it didn't, that it hadn't, but I was apparently quite wrong. I think of the first day I met Ben and all the times before thinking of how unintelligible teenagers were, how they considered things that were so trivial to be important. That part, at least, I understand now. I have been, with very little conscious reflection upon doing so, investing interest and, in some degree, feelings of personal worth into the first time Ben and I were to be together. Looking back upon our previous conversations, I realize that had never told him just how much my virtue, as it once was known, means to me. In my time as a vampire, there were few sins that I had not partaken in. I had been wrathful. I had lied. I had been covetous. I had glutted myself on human blood. I had murdered. I had thieved. I had been arrogant. I had been vain. Yet of all the things I had done, of all the recounted regrets I could recall in wrapped detail, I am still untouched by man or vampire.

It wasn't until this moment until I consider just how much I believed that elevated me about the other people of this world. I had used this simple fact as a crutch, to prop up my own self-importance, because I believed that my sins devalued me, and this had been one of the myriad ways I could use to feel better about myself. But, without realizing what I had done, I had drawn a line in the sand. And, without realizing what he had done, Ben had walked across it. He had walked away from me.

The door to my room opens. I turn, and it's Dad. He just stands there. I look at his face, and there is nothing there. He is expressionless, and it takes me a moment to understand. His features convey nothing because there is nothing to convey. His interest is entirely upon me, some much so that anything he has to say or express is absent because his concern is for me and me alone. He loves me.

We come together in the middle of my room so hard that the crackle of light damage our bodies take is audible in a human's range of hearing. He doesn't care that I have hurt him and I don't care that I have injured myself. He holds me and strokes my hair, and murmurs in my ear that everything is going to be okay and that he loves me no matter what and that Ben and I will get through this. I am not sure how long we are together before Mom arrives and holds us both. We invite her in and they are holding me, now saying nothing, letting me soak in the gift that their acceptance and their compassion is.

At last, I can feel the folly of my impressions of virtue. I know that nothing has changed between Ben and I in that regard. I will talk to him about it at some point when the time is right. For now, I have some place to be.

It is still early, just a bit after eleven, when I arrive at Ben's home. His mother is asleep, but from Ben's breathing and heart rate, he is still awake. I stop in the yard and listen. He is barely moving, perhaps just lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling.

I climb the house. I reach up, pulling open the window, fully prepared to force the lock, but it is open and slides up with but a whisper of sound.

Ben doesn't move in the bed. He is staring at the ceiling, his eyes unblinking. I sit beside the bed, and even before I can fully extend my hand, he grabs it and all but drags me to him. He curls to me, crushing his face into my sweater, one I don't remember putting on, holding tight to me. I hold him, cradling him as he beings to silently sob. I keep holding him, long after he has cried himself out, long after he has drifted off, long into the night.


	3. Chapter 3: Really? (Jocelyn)

Jocelyn

The morning was warm, which was good. The woods were not as comfortable somehow, after being inside again, after being on a bed again, if only for a little while, but that didn't matter. My baby was what mattered. Nothing else did.

I sat in the small clearing, a ways into the woods. It was snug up against a large pile of boulders, something you could put your back against in a fight. It seemed a good place to set up my base of operations.

It was so stupid, really. I mean, I wished that I was this big impressive Alpha Bitch, but really, I was just as clueless as Sam was when she was running in the woods, thinking she was insane before she first phased back to being human. Base of Operations? Who even talks like that? I was hoping that I could get some support, and maybe even a little guidance.

Sam and Karen held the chair easily, walking over the uneven ground. One of them could have held it themselves, but keeping it upright and the ride smooth was another thing entirely.

Mom looked dignified, of all things. She wasn't amused or trying to hide embarrassment or bothered or playfully lording being carried like a queen over her... what are they called? Rhythms with shepherd or sherbet? Whatever. She was doing any of that. She just sat, not exactly stiffly, but certain straight-backed and proud.

They placed her easily and carefully in the clearing, and from where she sat, she was taller than me, sitting in the grass, wrapped in the oldest blanket still in common use by Our People. We looked at each other for a long moment, and, for the first time I could think of, it felt like I was in the company of a peer. I felt adult in a way I never had. Maybe having my baby had something to do with it. Maybe living alone and look after myself had done it. Maybe finally taking up my birth rite had made it so. But, whatever the change, something in my mother's face had me convinced that she didn't like the change.

"You have come home," she said with an edge to her voice. Most people wouldn't have heard it or caught the dig at me for coming all this way and not coming to my actual house. I decided to ignore her.

"Yes," I said, adjusting the blanket about us.

"Why?" she asked.

I knew my mother well; she wasn't asking why I had come back. She was asking why I went, why I stayed away so long.

"I left because of Ben," I said. "You know that. I stayed away because I bore his child."

Mom's eyes went wide. Yeah, I figured that would shut her up.

"Bore?" she asked, surprising me right back. Well crap. I overplayed my hand.

"It was a strange pregnancy," I said uneasily. "Short."

"How short?" she asked, her eyes narrowing, looking for all the world just like my mother catching me in a lie.

"Five weeks," I said, hating the stupid leech for being right. I had checked the dates when I had gotten back. Stupid psychic bloodsucker!

Mom's mouth flattened, as though she was pressing her mouth shut so hard, her lips were practically gone. I didn't speak. She had to break the silence first.

"You were out there," she whispered, "by yourself, pregnant and alone, for five weeks?"

I couldn't tell what she was feeling. Anger, sadness, regret, relief, disbelief, shame, fear, or maybe some of all of the above.

"Yes," I said flatly.

"And?" she asked, wanting to know but unable to voice them, fear now definitely added to the mix.

"He was born," I said, "yesterday. He is here."

I patted the blanket gently over my baby's head.

Mom was now confused, suspicious. I could see it in the tightening of her features, which somehow deepens her wrinkles rather than smoothed them.

"And the reason you didn't just show me my grandson?" she asked, sounding all patronizing, the way she did when she was more put out than really truly angry.

"Because," I said, "he is very unusual. I wanted to prepare you before I showed you. I don't want to mislead you about him. When I mean different, I mean it. I don't know how or why, but he may be the only one of his kind, ever."

Mom just looked at me. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. She had to see.

"Are you ready?" I asked.

She started to look annoyed. I took that for a yes.

I pulled the blanket away from myself.

I didn't care that I was nursing my baby. Mom wouldn't either. Aside from losing all modesty when you become a wolf, I had been raised that a woman's body is nothing to be shameful about. It was only in front of boys, especially boys I liked, that I ever felt embarrassed. But as I did so, my mom's face filled with utter shock. Though, to be fair, it wasn't every day you saw a bare-breasted woman with a suckling wolf cub.

My baby was about the same size as a wolf. If he had gotten as big as we did compared to our adult bodies, he would have been far less manageable, but as it was, he was just as easy to cradle in my arms as he was when he was in human form.

He finished his meal, licking a bit of colostrum from his lips, opening wide in a doggy grin.

I rubbed his belly and his tongue and head lolled.

Mom couldn't look away. I knew how she felt.

As small and young as he was, he was a sight to see. His fur was white, so white it almost seemed to glow. It shown almost like pearls at times, with this sort of crazy sheen of color. His eyes were a piercing golden color and looked... I don't know, just smart. Like, smarter than a baby his age should even look. He could understand. It was undeniable, just looking. You knew.

He could do much more than that, but this much took a moment to get used too.

"This is your son?" she asked, a muscle starting to twitch where her nose met her brow.

"Yeah," I said, as though girls like me have birth to wolves all the time, 'cause we did.

"He's phased, Mom," I said, as though she was dense. But judging from the look she was giving me now, she might be.

"He's what?" she asked, as though she had never heard the word before. I rolled my eyes.

I jostled him to get his attention, but he thought it was all great fun, and ignored me. It took me a moment to consider that he might be ignoring me so that I would keep doing it, so I stopped. Sure enough, once I had, he sat up and looked at me, almost looking bothered.

"Be your other self," I said quietly.

His face, despite being a wolf, looked nervous. He shot a glance at the other wolves and Mom, looking unsure. So, I wasn't the only one who noticed that they were uneasy when he changed.

"It's okay," I said gently. "You don't need to worry about that. Go on."

He closed his eyes, his mouth closing but his smile coming back to his face. And, he phased, right in my arms. I felt it, warm and wild, like sound made solid, like matter made energy. And then, there was my little boy in my arms.

The two beside my mother had taken a half step back. They couldn't help it. The first lesson we all learned was to distance ourselves from others when we phase. Mostly, when we changed uncontrollably, it was in the other direction, human to wolf. When that happened, if you were close to someone, they didn't come out of it too well. There had been some cases when going the other way had hurt people too, such was the violence of the change that gripped us. But not my boy. He was gentle when he shifted. Somehow, that reminded me of his father. I tried not to feel sour about that. Or proud.

The little boy who was now in my arms looked well on his way to being a toddler. He was able to walk on his own and had started speaking single simple words almost as soon as he quit nursing. His hair wasn't quite long enough to pull back. He had been born with it at that length, just long enough to put behind his ears, much like his father's in the days he had come back to Forks. His eyes were his father's too, the same warm brown that twinkled with life when he smiled. His skin was nearly a perfect split difference between ours, but there was a paleness to it, a sensible durability. His hair was dark and straight but looked as though it could have a little wave to it if it was short enough. His face, his round baby face, seemed to have take features from both of us, somehow taking bits of him and bits of me and putting them together into something that was similar to each of us, but so much better than either. He was so beautiful.

He looked at me, smiling, and then glanced towards Mom.

"Who?" he asked. Mom shifted back, something like surprise on her face, but mostly fear.

"This isn't right," said Mom. "What happened?"

"I told you," I said. "Ben is the father. I bore him. He was born yesterday. But he is unique."

"This shouldn't be," said Mom. "I need to call the Council."

"Why?" I demanded, disbelieving.

"He could be dangerous," she said.

"He's a baby!" I shoot back.

"I can see him, Jocelyn!" she said loudly. "You cannot deny what he is."

"He's my son," I said coldly, holding him to me.

Paula snorted, "He has the mark of The Enemy on him."

"He is of The People," I said. "His parentage is sure."

"He is the son of a leech-loving-"

I snarled, the Alpha in my voice, "Be silent!"

She shut up.

"He is of my blood," I said, quieter. "I don't know what has happened or how he has come to be as he is, but we will protect him. Protecting The People is what he do. He is of The People."

"That remains to be decided," said Mom.

I glared at her.

"I am Matriarch here," I said proudly.

"You do not speak for the Council," she said. "Do you forget yourself, the histories, what the stories of old tell us when a Matriarch has too much say over the people?"

My frown deepened.

"I am not a tyrant," I said. "I do not seek to dominate or control our People with lies and deceit. I want only the safety of my child!"

"At who's expense?" asked Mom. "He is unknown to us, to you! Can you honestly say that he won't reveal the existence of the Pack to those who cannot keep the secret, to outsiders? Can you promise he will never be a danger to us?"

"Could you say the same of me when I was born?" I protest. "There is no such thing as safe."

"But there is such a thing as unnecessary risks," she said.

"What?" I asked snidely. "We should just cast him out?"

She looked at me, her face stony and blank.

"Nothing has been decided," she said. "That is why I must call the Council."

There was a pause while we both just looked at each other.

Into that silence, my baby reached up, turning my face to him. I let him.

"Who?" he asked again, an almost unnatural patience in his single word. I had forgotten he had even spoken.

"She is my mother," I said to him, smiling to reassure him. "She is to me as I am to you."

He looked thoughtful.

"Mother mother?" he asked.

I grinned at him, trying to cover my laugh.

"Grandma," I said, brushing the tip of his nose with my fingertip. "Grandma is mother's mother."

He smiled. Then, unselfconscious in the way of the very young, he bounded up, naked and enthusiastic, running to stand beside his Grandmother's chair.

"Grandma!" he cried, reaching up to her to be held.

And my mother, as surely as she was a mother three times over, knew what to do.

She took the blanket from her lap and wrapped him in it, lifting him ably, if not as surely as she once was could, into her lap.

"He's heavy," she commented aimlessly.

He smiled at her, wrapping his arms about her as he held himself to her.

And like that, she hugged him back, tears in her eyes. She gave me a stubborn look, but couldn't hold onto it. My boy had a good heart.

"He's an innocent," I said quietly, "no matter what he might appear to be. He doesn't phase in anger and he doesn't want to hurt people. He is bright and can learn. He has already learned so much. When he is grown, he will be worthy addition to Our People. He is one now, already."

He smiled over his shoulder at me, and I was sure he was enjoying the praise. Not bad for a one day old.

"I..." said Mom, "will do what I can. The Council must be called."

"Okay," I said, less reluctant now. "But if they must, bring them to where they can meet him. If they must judge him, they should not judge a faceless, nameless terror."

"What is his name?" asked Mom.

"Emond," I said, before I could think about it.

She raised her eyebrows, "Emond?"

"Yeah," I said, trying not to be defensive.

He perked up, already responding to it. Well, great.

"Well," said Mom. "I need to get back. I'm not sure how soon we can get the Council all together and willing to meet him. Maybe... think about getting him some shorts."

I couldn't help but smile. He though clothing was funny. He didn't understand it. We were plenty warm without it. It just seemed so unnecessary to him.

"I'll try," I said.

She smiled and he hopped off her lap, handing her back the blanket.

She marveled at him, "He's a day old?"

"Yep," he said.

I laughed. I was the only one.

He looked at Mom's chair, poking at the metal of the armrest.

"Why?" he asked.

She smiled sadly at him.

"I got hurt," she said. "A long time ago. I got hurt so bad, my legs don't work anymore. This chair helps me move around. It works better when the ground is flat."

He looked thoughtful.

"Get good again?"

She looked confused, then shook her head.

"No," she said. "I won't get better. This is just how I am now."

He looked at her, then put a hand on her leg.

Mom looked heartbroken.

Her frowned, as though thinking hard.

"Okay," he said. He walked back to me and curled into my lap.

"Bye," mom said, babyishly.

He waved, grinning widely.

Sam and Karen took her away. Paula looked pointedly at me. I relinquished my hold on her. She glared but didn't speak, and went with them.

"You did that on purpose," said Amber.

I looked at her in mock sweetness, "What?"

"You got your mom all defensive," she went on, "and then plopped her grandson in her lap. Literally!"

I smiled, "That is an interesting theory."

She was giving me too much credit, but she didn't need to know that. My guess was that part of being a leader was seeming more aware and in control than you really were. It's all about appearances.

Before I could think what to say next, Quinn reached down, plucked up Emond and turned, throwing him squealing into the air and catching him. She caught him and rolled him into his back on the ground, tickling his stomach. In a moment, he was a wolf, wriggling on his back, his feet waving as his jaws gaped wide in play, happy little yipping sounds coming from him. She rolled him back and forth, and he finally rolled away, hopping around invitingly.

She looked momentarily put out, glancing at me and then Amber.

"Okay, okay," Amber said. "I'll take him."

She took off her shirt and shorts, tossing them down and stepping back, phasing herself.

"Not too far," I said as they danced about, heading to a nearby stream where Emond liked to play.

As soon as they were gone, Quinn sat beside me. This ought to be good...

"They have a point, you know," she said. "You don't know."

"I don't care," I said.

"Sure you do," she said. "These are your people; The Pack, your family, your tribe. As much as you would like us to think otherwise, I know you care."

I shook my head, "Alright. Say that I do care. It doesn't matter. I have to do the best I can, for my son."

"And you know what's best?" she asked.

"I'm his mother!" I said hotly.

"Which means nothing when it comes to understanding what is best for him," she said. "You're what? Sixteen? Yeah, you've totally got it all figured out."

"Shut up," I said, but my words were more relaxed.

"He's your son," she said, "and you have to do right by him, but you can't lose yourself in that. You were you long before Ben knocked you up. You didn't stop being you just because you had a kid."

"He's the only thing that matters," I said.

"Oh shut up yourself!" she said. "Even imprinted people aren't that dumb!"

"Huh?" I said. "What do you mean?"

"Look," she said, "take it from someone who knows; you can't come second place in your own life. You just can't. Even when you find your other half and they become the most important person in the world to you, they never become more than you. Hell, Clay, even at two, pitches a fit when I treat myself as being second-rate to him. At two! He couldn't stand it when things aren't fair between us. No one who loves you, really loves you, would want you to do that to yourself."

"But he is worth more," I said. "He is-"

She smacked me across the face. It might have hurt if I hadn't been a wolf. As it was, it was just really surprising.

"Wake up," she said, each word crisp and sharp. "You aren't the first woman to lose her head over her kid, and lord knows you won't be the last. But that doesn't mean you get to stay that way. You're too important now to stay with your head stuck up your ass. There is no such thing as safe; you said it yourself. Don't burn all your bridges trying to make your kid something he will never be."

I looked at her. It wasn't exactly a glare, but it wasn't like I was happy either.

"What the hell else am I supposed to do?" I asked.

She shrugged, "Take it a day at a time. Find the answer to today's problem. Let people make their own decisions. Don't hide behind your kid as an excuse to make decisions you know are wrong. Remember there are people here who care about you and are willing to help, no matter how freaky your son is."

She laughed.

"Your son!" she chuckled. "A lady needs more than a day to get used to the idea that her friend since they were in diapers has her own little rug rat!"

I smiled too, "A lady needs more than five weeks to get used to the idea of being a mom."

"Yeah," she laughed, "I suppose it was a bit more surprising for you."

There was a minute where neither of us said anything.

"Why didn't you come back?" she asked. "Like, you found out you were pregnant. No matter how weird it was, why didn't you come home?"

I shook my head.

"You can't just brush being pregnant when it should be impossible under the rug," I said. "I had no idea why... why the ancestors chose me to bear him. But I did. I stayed in the woods, near to nature, in hopes... because they might..."

"You were hoping for a Sign," she said, "a Vision."

"Yeah," I said, sounding as dejected as I felt. "Look how well that worked out."

"And it had nothing to do with the vampire stuff?" she asked.

I felt like I just took a semi to the gut. I glared at her, "What?"

"Oh come on," she said. "You can't hide everything forever. We share a mind. You drank blood. And liked it! Ugh! I don't even like thinking about how much you enjoyed it. It's just... wrong."

She was right. I wasn't interested in risking The Pack or Our People's judgment. It was wrong. My baby craved blood. I didn't just go to the leeches because I didn't exactly know many mystical doctors. I went because he had things in common with them.

"He isn't a leech," I all but growled.

"He isn't a wolf either," she said. "At least, not the normal kind."

"Well," I went on, "even if he is part leech, and I'm not saying he is, then he isn't more leech than wolf."

"How is Denial Land?" she asked sarcastically. "Nice this time of year?"

"I will hit you back," I said, trying not to smile.

"Bring it, tightwad!" she said cockily. "You know what they say. The bigger they are-"

"The more bones they break," I finished, and she laughed.

There was another long pause.

"So," she said, "are we going to address the other elephant in the room?"

"Ben isn't a part of his life," I said without emotion.

"And who's fault is that?" she asked.

"His," I said, loudly.

"Oh, sure," she said. "Because, Ben, Mister Responsible, do-the-right-thing, super-mega-ultra-moral-Ben, wants nothing to do with being a father to his child."

"He gave up that right when he-" I started but she cut me off.

"I know you are not about to say something that is code for 'I'm punishing him because he didn't choose me'," she said. "I'm sure you're not about to say that."

"He doesn't-" I tried again, and again she cut me off.

"Deserve the chance?" she asked. "Have a right? Want to? Bull. We both know that if you let him, he would be here, right now. He does the right thing. Holy hell! How long were you two going out before he finally tapped that? Three years?"

"Shut up," I said, trying really hard not to laugh or blush.

I couldn't help but think of that night, _the_ night. Even afterwards, when he soured it so completely, I still couldn't deny that it had been the best night of my life. It had been everything I could have asked for. He was sweet and generous and silly and kind and strong and blundering and boyish and manly and sexy and... just Ben. It had been messy and fun and funny and life changing and good and right and hot and heavy and pure and delicious and delicate and all of the things I wanted. He had seen me, right down into me. When I was weak, when I was scared, when I felt the most mind altering pleasure and pain that might have brought me to tears before I first shifted, he saw me. He was there for me, with me, beside me, inside me. I bore myself to him in every way I knew how and a few I didn't know that I could. I was the girl I never knew I was allowed to be, the woman that I prayed I was, and the wild creature that brought out the wolf in me, and he, even though he didn't say it, loved me, without exception, the whole way through.

But, even after all that, even after the perfectly perfect of all perfect nights, Ben decided it wasn't good enough. He decided I wasn't good enough.

"My point is," she said, trying to sound serious again, "Ben has a son. How do you think he feels being stuck there when you and your, and by your I mean both of you, your child is here?"

I shook my head.

"He chose her," I said, trying not to sound cold. "It doesn't matter what his reasons were. In the end, he chose a leech over me."

A leech who loved him.

I couldn't deny that either. As much as I wanted to, I had seen it. She had been willing to give Ben up, if that is what he needed, if that is what made him happy. I hated her for that. Because, now, I was forced to admit that she might not be the worst decision he could have made. But also, she forced me to see that I wasn't doing that. He chose her, and I couldn't let that go. If he had chosen me, she would have. Did that mean I didn't really love Ben as much as she did? Did that mean he really had made the right choice?

"He deserves the chance to tell you himself," she had said. "He deserves a chance to make things right between you."

I snorted, "That's what his bloodsucker was saying..."

She looked at me like I had just suggested eating deer scat was a hobby of mine.

"Ugh, what?" she demanded. "You're seriously saying I'm agreeing with a leech? Uh, that's just wrong!"

"Yeah," I said. "What's worse, is you two might be right."

"Oh, great," she said unhappily. "Just take all the joy out of it for me, why don't you!?"

"I live to serve," I said, smiling. "But, I'm not ready to forgive him."

"Don't need to," she said. "Hear him out, cuss at him, tell him he's a stupid, no-good, backstabbing traitor of a pale-faced asshole. Then maybe hit him. He'd let you, and you'd totally be justified."

"No," I said, starting to feel sad. "I couldn't."

"Why?" she asked, sounding defensive, but defensive of me, so that was okay.

"Because," I said, feeling like I was getting the C-section all over again, but no anesthetic this time, "I think he might have been right."

She stared at me, "What?!"

"I don't mean that in a sad sack, poor me kinda way," I said quickly. "I mean that I talked to her, and in five minutes, she had me convinced."

"Convinced of what?" she asked.

I sighed, "That she might just love him more than I do. Well, maybe not more. But, at least, better than I do."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

I had to check. I had to be sure.

"If Clay hits his teens, and he, say, told you that he needed space," I said seriously, "that he wanted to date girls his own age, what would you do?"

She didn't even hesitate.

"I'd give him space," she said. "He can date whoever he wants. I doubt anyone will be able to love him like I do and when he figures that out, he'll come back to- that's exactly what she said, isn't it?"

I shrugged, taking a moment to catch up when she switched gears on me.

"Sort of," I said. "She might have left out the last part. She wants him to be happy. She won't leave, but she isn't going to try and keep him. If he would rather be with me, she could live with that."

"And you can't live with him being with her?" she asked.

I took a deep, long breath and sighed it out.

"I might be able to," I said. "Just... not yet."

"I can't exactly blame you," she said. "She wants to make him a vampire after all."

"No, she doesn't," I said before I could stop myself.

She just looked at me again.

"She doesn't," I said. "She told me."

"She told you?" she asked skeptically, then said mockingly, "Of course! Because all leeches tell the truth! There's no way she could be lying!"

I considered.

"If you could make Clay your age right now," I asked, "would you do it?"

"No," she said instantly. "I wouldn't want him to miss out on any- oh my god, will you stop that! Why do you have to keep making vampires relatable!? It's totally messing with me!"

I nodded, "Me too, Quinn. Me too. Every way I look at it, it just makes less and less sense. How can she be the monster I have always thought of her as and still have her be so... Ugh! She loves him. I understand it and I see it, and how can I still look at her the same as the freak, life sucking leech who wants to sap the man I love if I can see her as something so close to myself. Does that mean I am more of a monster than I thought? Is she more of a person than I thought? Argh! I don't know how to fit this into my view of the world! Something has to give. I don't like it. It feels wrong..."

She nodded, "Change isn't easy. But, sometimes it is necessary. I couldn't have been who I am to Clay without change. And I know that we can't find a place for your son here without change too. But, you know, if we can learn to relate to vampires, maybe, you know, see them as more than just monsters to be killed, then maybe, just maybe, we might be able to relate to my son too."


	4. Chapter 4: Consolation (Benjamin)

Benjamin

I didn't know what day it was. I was pretty sure it wasn't the weekend yet. This routine felt really familiar, only this time, Edwina was here. Only this time, it didn't matter.

A awoke every day with her beside me. After the first or the second day, she quit talking to me. I never said anything back. She gave me food at breakfast that I barely touched. She took me to work if I had a morning shift. She packed or made me lunch. She took me to work if I had an evening shift. She brought me home or stayed with me until mom got home. Dinner was always made, by her, unless mom was home first. Then Edwina would disappear until I come out of the shower. She laid beside me until I fell asleep. She touched me seldom. Occasionally she fed me or made me drink, and I didn't have the energy to resist. I wished that I could find my iPod, but I don't remember where it was last and I have even less energy for searching than I do for resisting.

She's back. Josie's back. She has my son with her, our child, and I am not allowed to even see him. A pregnant stomach was all I got, and Edwina telling me he was a boy the first day, trying to get me to snap out of it. It just made things worse. My son. My son... And Josie. Oh, Josie...

I was sitting at the table, not eating, when Edwina finally broke her steadfast silence.

"This can't go on much longer, Ben," she said evenly, "not without starting to affect your health. You haven't had a solid meal in days. You are barely hydrating. Even Mr. Newton asked you three times yesterday if you had the flu."

I understood what she meant. I only remembered him asking once. Of course, part of being out of touch with reality is not noticing that you are out of touch.

"Ben, I love you," she said, "and I respect that you have the right to make your own choices. But I care enough about you to tell you this isn't helping anything, especially you."

Her cold, smooth perfect hands touched my face. My eyes found hers, for the first time since we had stood together in the wake of Josie running for home.

"Come back to me," she said. "Even if it isn't now, please, make it soon. I can help. There are things that we can do, answers we can find."

I swallowed. And without considering, I spoke.

"I don't want to listen to you," I said. "It feels so easy to just blame Josie. She ran off with my son, stealing away any happiness I might find in getting to know him, to be with him. Sitting here, just making her the bad guy is so much easier than taking the time and energy to do something about it."

She looked at me, and listened. When I was done, she nodded.

"I understand," she said, "but you're wrong."

I blinked at her.

She stuck out her hand, waving it about, "All this, all of what you're do, you think this is easy? Being stuck, blaming her constantly, feeling unhappy, doing next to nothing, all of this, is easy? It doesn't take as much time and energy as forgiving her?"

"I never said it was logical," I said, with a sort of gruff chuckle.

"It might feel easy in your head," she said, "but at what cost? Is it really worth trading your life, your happiness, just to stay mad at her?"

"Yes," I said grumpily.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because," I said, "I can't let her be right."

She just looked at me.

"She took my son away," I said. "She cut me out of his life, out of her life. She turned her back on me. I can't let that be okay."

"Why would that be so bad?" she asked gently.

"Because," I said, "if I let it go, that's like saying I agree with her or I accept her decision, and I don't. It's like... like..."

"Like, what?" she asked.

"It would be like agree with her that I'm not good enough," I admitted. "It would be like me saying that I shouldn't be a father to my son."

She nodded.

"You feel ashamed," she said, "because you are missing out on something you believe was so important, that you had been telling yourself your entire life was hugely important, and now, when that was taken from you, you are left feeling empty and afraid."

"Actually," I said, "yes. That is very accurate."

Again, she nodded.

"I have a confession to make," she said. "I was unhappy with a choice made recently."

"Oh yeah?" I asked. "Which one?"

I wasn't really that surprised I had made her unhappy. I had don't so many things lately, it would be a total guess to try and figure out which one it was.

"I took it personally when you lost your virginity," she said.

I stared at her. It took me a moment to realize my mouth was hanging open and to close it.

"Okay," I said, letting the wave of conflicted emotions wash over me.

"Ben," she said, taking my hand, "I spent much of my life thinking I was a monster."

I winced, hating that she thought that, but letting her continue, knowing she didn't need to be interrupted at the moment.

"That was a decidedly unpleasant way to live," she said, "thinking so little of myself. I never had a reason to think more of myself until I met you. My parents and my family loved me, but I never believed in that love and just took it for granted, so how was it even possible for me to feel it? To cope, to survive the emptiness and the pain of living as I did, I had to use other means."

"Other means?" I asked.

She smiled humorlessly, "Justifications, excuses, lies all the things that kept my good old fashion self-delusions in place. Chief among those, I felt superior to my peers."

She looked down at herself, making a show of it, her posture and manner becoming very, very eye catching. She was considerate enough to allow me time to recover before she continued.

"I am beautiful," she said, her tone somewhere between mocking and recriminating. "I am physically flawless. I am the first immortal created by my mother, the oldest of my siblings other than Jasper. I have read more books than my siblings, speak the most languages, have the most skills. And despite years of sin and bloodshed, I still retain one thing that not a member of my family can claim; I still have my virtue."

It took me a moment to connect the word with her previous statement. She was a virgin. And then, the implication came to me. I had lost my virtue. Something she valued about me was gone, and I could never get it back.

I leaned back, feeling angry, frustrated, stupid, and defensive. I looked at her and stopped. She was just looking at me. She wasn't arguing or trying to cull my reaction or attempting to comfort me. She was letting me feel what I would. And in the moment, I realized that I had been angry and defensive so that she would comfort me. Her words had scared me, and I wanted to feel better. Once I noticed this, I didn't feel frustrated anymore. My little show had not had the desired effect. She would not allow herself to be manipulated. Now I could see that it was stupid of me to try, and that was okay. I could see she wasn't judging me for it.

"Do you think less of me now?" I asked.

She smiled, and it was heartwarming to see.

"Of course not," she said. "I wanted to. I wanted to judge you and feel better about myself, but it was a force of habit. These patterns are old in me. As advanced as my brain..."

She paused, smiling, seeming to laugh at herself.

"As sophisticated as my behaviors can be," she said, "I am just as capable of diluting myself as you are. I have spent so long relying on the image of myself as someone who is better than everyone else, I still don't always know when I am doing it. It comes out in weird places, like always trying to make your decisions for you, or being upset that your first time wasn't with me."

I froze.

"I thought you were upset because I wasn't a virgin anymore," I said quietly.

She became still, as only a vampire could.

After a moment, her smile returned.

"If there is anything that helps me be honest," she said, "it's you. I have trouble even lying to myself when I'm with you. You absolutely inspire truth."

I smiled. It didn't realize I was until it had already happened.

My hand found hers.

"I made you sad?" I asked.

She sighed, her exhale actually audible.

"You didn't do anything to me," she said. "I chose to be upset by you. I chose to blame you, at first, because it made it easier not to take responsibility for my own decision, the actions I took that let this happen."

For a solid moment, I felt my gut twist. I knew exactly what she meant, because, I am sure she realized this already, that was exactly what I was doing. I was choosing to be upset with Josie, to blame her, rather than to take responsibility. I had left. I had walked away. I had made my choice. Now, whether I liked it or not, there were consequences for my decision. I was going to have to live with them.

Her words seemed to settle deeper into my mind, and I sat a little straighter, "How did you let this happen?"

She smirked at me. I felt my belly do a flip flop.

"Do you honestly believe that you would have had sex with Josie had I not left?" she asked.

I considered, tried not to smiled.

"I might have," I said jokingly. "You don't know."

She smiled alluringly, leaning back suggestively in her seat, "I am willing to consider that it's possible, but I think I could have kept your attention, with a little effort."

She made it sound like it was such a difficult thing.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked, and I realized that I might have zoned out a bit, possibly because I had been staring at her chest. I don't think I had been doing it for long than a minute. Or three.

"Hmm?" I replied.

"Had I stayed," she asked, "do you think we would have had sex by now?"

I considered.

"No," I said abruptly.

Her eyes went just noticeably wider.

I squeezed her hand.

"It's different with you," I said. "I..."

I took a deep breath.

"When I was with Josie," I said, my throat feeling tight, "I was with her for selfish reasons. Not entirely selfish; I loved her, as much as I rightly could, but truly, I was with her to forget about you and to cope with how unhappy I was. We could have had a life together, had you never come back, had you never existed in the first place, but how does even making that statement help matters any?"

I swallowed. I looked into her eyes. They were starting to darken. She would need to hunt soon, as she told me she would whenever her eyes began to darken. I got lost in their warm honey glint and found myself speaking without thought or fear.

"I was afraid," I said.

It was true. I hadn't let myself see that, feel that, but it was true.

"I was afraid of losing her," I said, "of missing out on what I wanted, again. I wanted to do something grand and affirming and that made me feel closer to her than anyone else. I wanted her to be the one, the one I truly gave my heart to. I wanted to prove that I was giving up on you, that I was with her more than I had ever been with you. It was a great experience, one of the greatest of my life. But it was also a mistake, done for all the wrong reasons. And, as a result, I'm a dad."

I shook my head.

"Wow," I said with a quiet chuckle. "I am totally my parents' kid!"

She laughed, and it was beautiful, heart-pounding and gut-wrenching.

"And?" she asked. "What makes you think that we wouldn't have had sex?"

I looked at her.

"Because fear would have had the opposite effect with you," I said. "I wouldn't have been bold enough to take steps forward with you. Even if you had given me direction permission, I wouldn't have been ready. I would have been afraid to mess everything up. It took you leaving for me to realize it was pointless to hold on to all that fear and let go. It took Josie to make me brave enough to act past all the fears I couldn't just let go of. I owe so much of the man I am becoming to the both of you."

She nodded, thinking.

"So," she said, her focus a bit distant, "if I were to suggest that we have sex now, you wouldn't be interested?"

I felt a shiver run through me.

"You mean, _now_ now?" I asked, sounding nervous.

She smiled, "Sure."

I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach as a slew of images and ideas pulled themselves through my brain.

I considered the ring, in its box, up in my bathroom, the one room she never went into.

"No," I said, mentally kicking my own ass.

She didn't look concerned.

"Could we...?" she asked. "Could we try, before... while you're still human?"

I thought about that. I quickly had to stop thinking about it.

"Won't that be dangerous?" I asked.

She frowned, "Yes, actually. Extremely. But, with preparations, some focus, and-"

She smiled deviously in a way that very much had me backpedaling to change my mind to yes.

"-maybe a safe word, I think we can be okay," she finished.

"What about your virtue?" I asked.

She looked at me.

"Ben," she asked, "do you love me?"

I blinked.

"You know I do," I said.

"And do you still want to spend forever with me?" she asked.

I started to get a knot in my stomach. This was dangerously close to a proposal. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. We weren't in the meadow! Alice was going to kill me.

But I looked into her eyes, and all my worry went away.

"At least that long," I said, squeezing her hand.

She grinned.

"What is my virtue to that?" she asked. "You have committed to me. What more could I ask?"

"There's marriage," I almost said, but stopped myself.

"Edwina," I said. "I am willing to try. But only went it's right. No pressure, no fear, no doubts, just love. I was so close to doing it the right way before. I don't want to make the same mistake twice."

She thought a moment and nodded.

"I respect that," she said. "How do feel now?"

For a moment, I thought she was asking me how close I was from feeling ready to have sex, which struck me as rude, but then I realized what she meant.

"I'm not stuck anymore," I said. "I have what I need to move forward."

"Good," she said. "Let's go."

I didn't argue or even ask. I ate and cleaned up and her car was out front, though it hadn't been at any time this week.

"Alice," I murmured and she laughed quietly.

We climbed in and drove to the Cullen house.

Naturally, as soon as we walked in the door, Alice hugged me. It wasn't exactly an ambush, but Edwina did need to keep me from toppling when she pounced.

"I'm glad your back," she said. "You're still flickery, but not as bad."

I figured she meant my future and nodded.

"It's good to be back," I said. "Now, what am I doing here?"

They laughed.

"We are catching you up," she said. "Unlike some of us, we haven't been idle these last five days."

I winced, "It's Sunday?"

She rolled her eyes, "Come on then."

We walked upstairs to find Edwina's mother, sitting in her study. The door was open, and she had a few laptops there, all smooth and thin and expensive looking. They were closed, as though she just closed them and put them aside.

"Hello, Ben," she said. "Please, sit."

There was only one chair in the room, and being the only person who was more comfortable sitting than standing, I sat.

"I would like to talk with you," she said, "about your child."

I stared, trying not to lock up at the very mention of him.

"Hey," said Alice, snapping her tiny fingers, the sound crisp and sharp. "We can't have you going all introverted and silent every time we mention him. You have a kid. There is nothing you can do right now to change the situation. Let's move on."

I looked at her, my gaze focused, and nodded.

"Good," she said. "Go on, mom."

Katherine smiled, a sort of complacent amusement on her face before she turned to me.

"Has Edwina told you any more about what happened that day?" she asked me.

"No," I said honestly. "But, to be fair, I didn't ask. I haven't wanted to think much about it, actually."

"Well," Katherine said, turning to her daughter, "perhaps now you should."

Edwina nodded and looked to me, "You are familiar with what happens during pregnancy? You know what a placenta is, a cesarean, an amniotic sac, and the like?"

"For the most part," I said. Strangely, I had been better in female anatomy than male in Biology.

She nodded, "Good. So, needless to say, Josie's pregnancy was unusual, and not just because it was so short."

I snorted, "Besides the fact that it should have been impossible."

All three of them stared at me.

"Josie explained it," I said. "Before becoming a wolf, she went into a massive growth spurt. She grew to a fully mature adult."

I felt myself go a little stiff, thinking about her full bloomed maturity. I felt embarrassed, so close to Edwina while thinking about it.

"Anyway," I said, going on, "once she had reached her maturity, her body sort of stops aging."

"Stops aging?" asks Katherine. "In what way?

"I'm not sure," I said. "It is like, her body knows she's needed to protect her people. She reaches her prime and stays there. All normal progression stops, including... her natural... cycle."

"Hmmm," said Katherine considering. "Interesting. Halting the aging process would be really helpful if you had immortal opponents to fight against."

"Not only that," said Edwina, "but the inhibited cycle could be two fold. Having a child might be impossible for them. Who knows what their transformation could do to a developing child. Also, being a protector would be conflicting if you were a mother at the same time."

"Or," said Alice, "it could have something to do with there being no male wolves."

"Or," said Katherine, "it could have something to do with a conflict in cycles since humans have a menstrual cycle and wolves have an estrous cycle."

"Or," said Edwina, "it could have something to do with the underline nature of the magic, for lack of a better term, that allows them to exist in the first place. It might not be something that has a mechanism for reproducing itself."

I sat there, feeling a little inadequate. Also embarrassed. The next part felt rather personal, but since I was in the presence of the two Cullens I felt the most comfortable with and a doctor, I decided that I wasn't likely to get snubbed for what I said next.

"Anyway," I continued, "when I was... together with Josie, we didn't use protection. She didn't have a cycle and we were both virgins, so STDs didn't seem like something to worry about."

Edwina went on, without much of a pause for me to feel uncomfortable it.

"Well," she said, "even if Josie didn't have a cycle, we have no way of knowing where in her cycle her body stopped without further examination."

"I think it is likely," said Katherine, "that Josie stopped right at the height of her cycle, just before normal menstruation. From what Ben described, it sounds to me that these warrior wolf women remain protectors until they can return to their ordinary lives. Somehow, it seems more fitting that, rather than having their return marked by their renewed cycle, they should have it marked with a pregnancy instead."

It made sense to me, complete sense. Josie, fighting her way through the vampires that threatened her people, would one day find her mate, her other half. They would grow close, as close as she and I, closer even, and then, one day, when she was calm and happy, ready to give up her wolf self and live, she would find herself with child. There was a part of me that hated that idea, hated the faceless, nameless boy who thought himself worthy of her, but that part of me was very small. The rest of me was glad to think of her happy, liking that she might someday have again what I had taken from her.

"What you are suggesting sounds entirely plausible," said Alice, "except for one point; she wasn't done being a wolf. Her pregnancy was premature. What was different about it? What caused her to ovulate for her to actually get pregnant?"

Katherine shrugged, "We can only guess. However, I think it is likely tied into the other way in which the child is different."

"Other way?" I asked.

Edwina nodded.

"We are fairly certain," she said, her voice grave, "that your son is part vampire."

There was a long, long silence.

I tried to make sense of what she had just said, but I couldn't. It was just another impossibility that boggled my mind.

"How?" I finally got out. "I thought vampires can't have children."

"We can't," said Katherine. "At least, not that I know of. The closest we have ever come was to changing children."

I was shocked, even revolted. Vampire children? I found that the very idea of a vampire child frightened me.

"You changed children?" I asked.

Katherine laughed. It was a good laugh, breaking the tension.

"Not personally, no," she said. "It was a practice that has since been discontinued."

I didn't need to guess.

"The Volturi," I said.

"Naturally," said Edwina. "The immortal children were endearing and lovely, yet violent and destructive. They were children with all the strength and cunning of a vampire, with none of the restraint. They could not maintain the secret. Now, they are a death sentence to our kind. The Volturi make no exceptions about it."

I nodded, completely understanding.

"But," I said, "you think my son is part vampire? What makes you say that?"

Edwina bobbed her head, considering.

"Essentially, three specifics," she said. "Firstly, I noticed almost immediately the keenness of the child's mind. Even before he was born, he had an understanding that was far beyond that of a newborn, let alone a child that had gestated in just five weeks. Secondly, the amniotic sac. It was quite similar to vampire skin, both in composition and durability. And thirdly, the child itself. He was strong, Ben. He was able to lift his head and shift his whole body about upon his birth. That's unheard of. His skin wasn't nearly as hard as ours, but it was much more so than an average human's, with a very slight hint of the shine of our skin. He is likely part vampire, maybe even half."

"How is that even possible?" I exclaimed. "Josie is his mother. I am his father. Neither one of us are vamp-"

I got it. I had it. Before I realized I was doing it, my fingers were tracing my scars. The teeth-marks upon my skin, one set from Jamie, one from her mate Victor, where they had bitten me.

"Yes," said Katherine. "You are a singular case, Benjamin. I have never heard of anyone being bitten and having the venom sucked out, not once. You've had it done twice. It is even possible that trace amounts of Edwina's venom might have entered your system when she sucked it out, so it might even be venom from as many as three separate vampires. This has never been studied before. We have no idea what effects that it might have had on you. It could have affected your genetics or your epigenetics or your gametes."

I blinked, "My what?"

"Your genetics is your DNA inside your cells," said Alice. "Your epigenetics are a combination of environmental factors that affect how and what genes are expressed. And your gametes are your sperm."

She stifled a lip twisting smile.

"It would have been best if we could have gotten samples from you on the day," said Katherine, "but if you're willing, I'd like to get samples from you now."

"Samples?" I asked. "What kind of samples?"

"Specifically," she said, "saliva for hormones and some natural flora, blood which will give us access to a plethora of information, and, just to be thorough, a sperm sample."

There was a sudden boom of laughed from elsewhere in the house, and, in an instant, Emily was in the doorway, leaning against it, her arms crossed, one knee bent so it's ankle could cross behind the other.

"Did you hear that Benny-boy?" she mocked. "A sperm sample! I could run to town for a skin mag for you. How do you prefer your porn? You strike me as a butt man."

I was about to go on a defensive tirade, but Edwina's look of worry caught me off guard. I was about to say something, trying to return her face to the relaxed, smiling person she so often was around me, when Alice giggled. There was such a sound of joy to it, an altogether difference sense to it than Emily's teasing. It reminded me that we are in this together, that in some ways, we were family already. It just hadn't officially happened yet.

I grinned back at her.

"I prefer my porn from New York City," I said. "Go ahead. Take your time."

She grinned right back.

"I'm so glad Edwina decided not to kill you," she said. "It's more fun when you're around."

Without even having to look, I reached out and took Edwina's hand.

"I'm glad too," I said.

"Here," said Katherine, removing a few items from a kit she had beside her desk. "We can start with the easier stuff."

"Uh oh," said Emily, standing straight. "Okay, I'm out."

Alice smiled, and stood, stepping out as well.

"I'll take Jasper for a walk," she said.

Katherine walked to the window and opened it.

I looked to Edwina, "You're staying?"

She straightened, "Did you want me to leave?"

"No!" I shot back, a stronger reaction than I was expecting.

"No," I said again. "I just mean, won't being near my blood be hard for you?"

Her face relaxed a bit.

"Ah," she said. "No, it won't be hard for me. It won't be pleasant for me, but it isn't a temptation anymore."

I looked harder at her, "It isn't?"

"No," she said. "The desire to kill you is a truth, a constant. It is with me every moment. How I choose to react doesn't change. It won't change if you bleed. It's my choice."

I felt somewhat touched for some reason. I didn't fully understand it, but I could accept it.

I took her hand, "Okay."

I turned to see Katherine sanitizing her hands with a wipe. She uncapped a small cup and said, "If you could gather some saliva and spit into this cup. I'll culture the bacteria and run whatever tests I can so I don't use up your blood unnecessarily."

She recapped it once I had done so and then set about getting ready to draw my blood.

"Have you had blood drawn before?" she asked.

I sort of winced.

"I donated to a blood drive at school senior year," I said, "while you all were away. Turns out, I'm allergic to iodine."

Katherine nodded, "Good to know. I don't use it anymore myself, so you won't need to worry about it."

"Good," I said.

She had a nicely practiced hand as she tied off my arm and stuck me with the needle. She took three vials of blood and quickly put them away in a small mini-frig she kept in her office. Edwina stepped in and held cotton to my small puncture, and rather than using the strange bandage tape I had seen previously, they actually used some sort of adhesive, like superglue, to seal the tiny hole in my skin.

After it had set, Edwina cleaned the skin around it, and dropped everything tainted with blood into a small ceramic bowl that Katherine placed upon her desk. She squeezed a small squeeze bottle of some liquid upon the remnants and quickly struck a match, lighting the mass of used medical supplies aflame.

"You seem like you do that a lot," I commented.

Katherine chuckled, "When I first started gathering my family to me, it was not uncommon for a doctor to have grievously injured people brought to their doorstep, especially in the smaller, secluded townships we frequented from time to time. It was easier for my family if I burnt the residue of my ministrations, but in those days, having a fire burning within your home was fairly common."

Slowly, the flames died, and she poured the ash into a Ziploc bag before stowing the bowl and dropping the partially full bag in the trash.

Then, with a casual yet meaning deliberate hand, she set a somewhat opaque cup with a bright blue screw-on top before me.

I immediately felt hugely uncomfortable.

Edwina took the cup and my hand.

"Come with me," she said.

Somehow, this solution made me even more nervous, but I trusted her and I went with her willingly.

We went to her room. It took me a moment when we walked in to recognize it as the same room. The settee she had before was gone, but her small desk was still hidden away in its corner. A majority of the free space was now occupied by a large, luxurious, King sized bed. I was guessing since I hadn't ever seen such a bed. The space it occupied and height seemed excessive somehow. Why did she even have this?

And then, the reason dawned on me, and my arm was pulled forward, stopping just short of being jerked as she had kept walking and I halted. I realized the door had been closed behind us. We were alone, in her room. I needed to produce a sperm sample.

"It isn't that," she said, her words almost defensive. "I-"

She didn't finish. Apparently, she hadn't been prepared to have me suddenly grab her shoulders as I pushed my mouth to hers, shoving her hard against the wall behind her. I heard the cup clatter against the carpet, and she had just enough time to wrap her arms tightly around me before I lifted her against the wall. Muscle strained at her dense body, and I lifted her as I desired, and she pulled me to her with an entwining leg, holding tight to my shoulders as her shirt pulled, giving me access to run my hands up her back.

She gasped, her fingers in my hair, her lips at my ear, on my earlobe.

"That's..." she tried to say, "not what I..."

I turned, supporting her weight. With three rather rough strides, I crossed to and dropped her down on the bed. She disentangled herself enough to fall, splayed invitingly upon the duvet. I couldn't keep myself from her, and before I could think too hard, the buttons on her blouse were popping under my grasp, and she gasped anew, her mouth actually tracing the skin of my neck, hinting, almost teasing, thrilling me. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, feeling hard enough to almost bruise me. It drove me harder, faster, and I began kissing her neck, driving slowly downwards.

"I..." she said, "I..."

Suddenly, a foot found my chest, and I was flung backward with unbelievably firm yet steady force. I found my feet before I thumped harmlessly into the far wall, finding that my own shirt was in literal pieces. I wasn't sure when that had even happened.

"You," she murmured, draped coyly upon the bed, "are completely unfair."

"Oops," I said, without real conviction.

"Too much," she said, breathing deeply. "Too much, too fast, too soon, no warning, not enough choice."

I sighed, trying to calm down. Wasn't easy.

I suddenly remembered why I was even in here, and stopped trying to calm down. I went and picked up the cup.

"I'll be back," I said, stepping into her bathroom, which was nearly as large as my own room, and clinic enough that it felt more like I was in a hospital than I was in a private home. That helped. So did what had just happened. I was finished quickly.

Washing up, I walked back out with the sealed cup, feeling somewhat shaken. I wasn't ready for what awaited me.

There was a blur and breeze of vampire speed and the cup was gone from my hand. I looked up, wondering what had happened, when I spotted her.

Whatever Edwina had done with the cup, it wasn't in sight anymore. I tried to consider what more could have happened, but my brain wasn't really working at the moment. She was still wearing her blouse. I hadn't remembered what she had been wearing on her feet, but that was gone too, along with, I presumed, her socks and her pants. Her blouse was more or less closed, though it was still missing most if not all of its buttons.

I couldn't get over how shapely her legs were. They were perfect. The tone of her muscle was perfectly balanced, with no unnecessary bulk and just enough curve, with still enough superfluous flesh to keep everything uniform, without showing the individual cords of her muscle. They were smooth and flawless and begged to be touched.

She began to walk towards me, each step crossing over the previous one as she walked towards me. She was calm, but there was a strange, strained steadiness to each step, as though she was doing all she could to maintain her current pace and not shoot at me like a comet. With every swish of her hips, the hem of her blouse fluttered, and I could make out the simple white almost triangle of cloth that peaked from beneath it, drawing my eye like nothing I had ever know, hinting, tantalizing.

She made her way to me, closing with me, and I felt more spots than I could count, so badly was my mind swimming, where her bare, cool flesh touch my bare, flaming skin.

"I want to make love to you," she said, her voice even but betrayed by the subtlest implication of a quaver.

"It doesn't have to be now," she said. "When you are ready, truly ready, I am. Even if it does not work, even if it has to wait until you're no longer human, I don't care. As soon as you are willing to try, I want you."

Slowly, not quite consciously, I slid to my knees. She didn't try to hold me up or stop me. My face was even with her middle. I had an almost inescapable desire to press my lips to the smooth flesh of her stomach, but as I felt myself leaning forward to do it, my desire deflated and I simply rested myself to her belly. Her hands went into my hair, and there was something supportive, almost maternal about it. It broke me.

"I can't have children with you," I said. My mouth was somewhat muffled, but I knew she heard me, that she understood.

"I didn't understand before," I said. "How could I? My child, my actual and likely only child, has been born. And I missed it. I am missing it. I know how much that hurts now. And I know that there is nothing I can do to change it. And the sad thing is, in all of this, the thing that hurts the most isn't that my son is taken from me. It isn't that I am missing out on getting to know him or losing this time we might have together. It's that, no matter what I do, I can't have the experience with whom I wish."

My eyes were filled with tears as I pulled back and looked at her.

"If I could have a child with anyone," I said, "I wish that it could be you."

She pushed back what little hair I had, wiped away my tears and looked at me with the most heartrending empathy. In that moment, there was something, the faintest look in her eyes, that hinted that she might just be as heartbroken as I was at the idea that we could never have children. And, in an instant, she hid her pain away from me and was smiling again, her sadness purely empathic once again.

"I am sorry, Love," she said. "If there was a way, I would gladly bear your child. It would be life-affirming in a way that I never considered before I met you. And I am sorry that you cannot have this the way you want it."

She was right. If I had had a choice, I know how I would have wanted it. I would have loved to have been beside Josie the whole way through. I would have loved to cherish her and the life she carried inside her. I would have been in it with her, the whole way through, and during the birth, I would have been at her side. I would have wanted it all. It was a selfish desire, I couldn't deny that. As much as it might have benefited Josie not to be alone, to have love and support through the whole thing, she made her choice, and me wanting to go against it was unfair. But I wanted to be selfish. However, if I hadn't wanted to be selfish, to have it my way, to press, to have what I wanted without a thought to what others might want or the consequences of my actions, we wouldn't be here in the first place.

"I'm sorry it wasn't you," I said. "I'm sorry my first time wasn't with you."

She smiled, "I don't care. Not anymore. I love you. I don't care about details. Nothing will ever change that."

We got dressed. I was given a replacement shirt. We stayed in the Cullen house for the rest of the day. She made me lunch, which was odd and oddly good. They had a fully stocked kitchen, after all. She really was a great cook for someone who tastes nothing and never eats.

We watched a movie and sat together on the couch. Alice came through at one point with Jasper, but they didn't stay long. Apparently, Jasper was on a bit of a rough patch and they were trying to keep the two of us apart as much as they could. Finally, Edwina took me home just in time for dinner and said she would come back after my shower.

I had a great evening with mom. When she saw me, the first thing she asked was if I had talked to Josie, and she was surprised when I said no. She accepted that I had spent time with Edwina and seemed to be opening up to the idea that she really made me happy.

"Did you ask her yet?" she asked.

"No," I said. "The whole Josie thing really put a damper on the mood of the thing."

"Really?" asked Mom. "How so?"

I wanted to explain. I really did. But there wasn't any way to simply state what had happened, without say that I had fathered a child.

"I haven't been able to resolve anything with Josie," I invented, only kinda sorta. "So, I've been pretty much sticking my head in the ground about the whole thing because there wasn't anything I can do. Now that she showed up, I just can't do that anymore, and it sucks."

Mom thought about it.

"So," she said, "you're pretty much saying you want to resolve things with Josie so you can run off with your old girlfriend and get married?"

"No!" I said. "It isn't like that!"

I suddenly started to feel nervous that Edwina might overhear our conversation. I prayed Alice would trip her up.

"I bet it feels that way to Josie," Mom said.

I shook my head.

"I'm not trying to cut Josie out of my life," I said. "There's a place for her. She just doesn't want it."

Mom nodded, "Sounds like she is having a hard time being your second choice."

I sighed and nodded, "Yeah. But that's up to her. She's choosing a path that sucks for me, but I get it. That's her choice."

Mom shook her head.

"When did you get so grown up?" she asked. "Is this Edwina or what?"

I chuckled, "Probably. She has an old soul."

Mom laughed, "God save me from teenagers in love!"

We cleaned up and I went up to my room. I was gathering my sleep clothes when I happened to glance out the window. There was something in the yard. I couldn't make it out, and if it wasn't for the fact that I could see it was on the other side of the glass, I would have thought that it was a spot on my vision. It was almost like a shadow, but it was lighter rather than darker. When I got closer to the window, it vanished.


	5. Chapter 5: Resolutions (Jocelyn&Edwina)

Jocelyn

"The Counsel has decided," said Stewart Clearwater. "Your son possess too great a risk. We don't know what he will become or what risks he will pose simply by being here. There is too much at stake. He needs to leave."

Mom looked pissed. It was hard to tell. She was very still and very calm. I wasn't calm. It took everything I had to keep my head, my shape.

"He is a boy," I said. "He's aging quickly, true, but so did we. Just because you don't know something doesn't mean he is dangerous."

"He is welcome on our lands, during the day," said Stewart. "But he may find no bed or sleep here."

"Don't quote to me the old ways of rejection!" I shot back.

"This is not banishment," said Old Quinn. "This is a lack of permission. No more. You must find a home elsewhere."

I turned to my son. He stood beside me in too big, cutoff shorts and an old T-shirt, but he looked normal, beautiful. But he was too much of what they feared.

In the more than two weeks since his birth, it was obvious that he was not going to grow at the rate of a normal boy. So far, he looked like he had aged several months. At this rate, he could look older than six by the end of the year. I could be mother to a man who looked my age, maybe older, in a few years.

But, as he was, he looked vulnerable, tiny, young. He still had all his baby pudginess, a roundness and softness that was misleading, given how dense and hearty he was. I could no less turn my back on him, even if he wasn't my son, than I could kick a puppy.

"I am the Alpha of The Pack," I said.

"That buys you no favors," said Stewart.

"No," I said, backing up. "I mean that I'm the Alpha; how am I supposed to defend this land if I'm not welcome here."

"You are welcome here," said Mom. Immediately, the other two members of the counsel looked at her, and she closed her mouth.

So that's how it was...

"You are welcome," said Old Quinn. "You're... child is not."

"I'm not abandoning my son," I said coldly, slowly to keep from spitting the words.

"Maybe," said Stewart, "the... child would be better off with his... father."

I could almost hear what he was really saying; "Maybe the leech thing would be better off with his own kind."

I snarled. I hadn't made such a sound while I was human before. If I hadn't made the sound, I don't think I could have stopped myself from phasing. Then, tiny fingers found their way into mine, and I couldn't hold onto the anger anymore. It slipped away, leaving me as I was, not as the heat and hate wanted me to be.

"Or," said Old Quinn, sounding falsely diplomatic, "you could always return the title to Sam, give back what you spurned for so long."

I huffed out something that could vaguely be referred to as a laugh.

"Right," I said. "Any of you high and mighty Elders want to explain to me how to do that exactly?"

"Your disrespect is not welcome her, Jocelyn," said Mom. They didn't try to cull her this time.

My son frowned. I just caught it out of the corner of my eye. He had locked his attention onto my mother and walked slowly towards her. She was still, unafraid, but you could see the others get their hackles up, even Paula and Karen who stood beside the Elders, one to either side. They all watched as my son, cautiously, as though he sensed the tension, walked to his grandmother. Then, with a very deliberate and precise motion, he poked her in the knee.

They all relaxed. Old Quinn even returned her attention to me, trying to give me a look that demanded I get control of my child. Not one of them noticed what I noticed.

Maybe, it wasn't something that really concerned them. Maybe it wasn't a thing that they would ever have noticed. Maybe it was because they hadn't spent enough time around my mother. Maybe it was that they didn't think enough about her to really care or understand. Maybe it took caring for my mother, seeing her every day, watching her without shame or fear. Maybe it took being a child and watching your mother, once a goddess in your eyes, become injured and crippled, watching her every day, praying for a miracle to bring that woman back to you, hoping against hope and all odds that her legs would once again move.

It wasn't the force of the poke. It was a jerk, a reflex action, something that would be hard to hide even if you were trying. And Mom's eyes found mine. She didn't look shocked; she looked scared. She had known. And she didn't want anyone else to. Why? How long had this...

I got it. I had it. My boy had known. He had done what he did deliberately. Why? To show me? To tell her he knew?

I looked at him. He was smiling at her, and there was something there, something maybe only I could see, something that you wouldn't notice unless you looked for it. He was proud and he was hoping for praise.

He had done it. I had no idea how, but my son had fixed my mother's legs. Or maybe her spine. Hell, I didn't know! What was going on here?

The scared expression of my mother's face remained. She didn't want them to know. She was afraid what they might say, what they might do if they knew her disability had been taken away by my boy.

I couldn't blame her. It took all of two seconds to see why that was a valid fear. Suddenly, I became Alpha. Then, my mother, who had been piteous and weak, suddenly returned to her full potential, her position on the counsel becoming much stronger too. It would be seen as suspicious and risk further fear and distrust.

I looked away. I stifled the joy and the deep childish sobs that wanted to fly out of me. I drew it all back and turned my attention back to the counsel.

"What say you?" asked Stewart.

I snorted.

"I say you are fools," I said, cold and bitter. "I say you are ignorant and afraid and too stupid to risk change. All you can see is what scares you. You aren't brave enough to see past it to what might be."

"Enough of this!" snarled Paula. "We did not come here to be insulted and looked down upon!"

She pointed at my little boy with outright hatred.

"That thing is an abomination!" she barked. "It cannot stay here! It shouldn't exist at all!"

I lost my cool. To be fair, I think any mother watching someone as dangerous as Paula coming so close to screaming "That thing needs to die!" at her child would have the same reaction.

I rolled to one side, gaining space. When I regained my feet, my clothing was drifting away in scraps on the wind, and I was on all fours, growling, my mussel low, my eyes dead on Paula.

She didn't need an excuse, but she had one. She leaped at me, snapping and roaring. I ducked low, risking her feet to get under her, going for her belly. She flailed, losing her focus and any chances she had to score on me. I pivoted around, coming at her before she had a chance to turn and face me. And that was when Sam hit me.

I rolled, absorbing most of her momentum, finding my feet as quickly as I could. I turned to face them, snapping my defiance. I could take either of them in a fight. Both together, that was something else entirely. I could read their thoughts, but they could read mine. I was stronger and faster, but they outnumbered me.

 _Back off,_ I growled in my thought to them. The Alpha was strong in me.

Paula tried hard to fight it, but she went down, cowed into submission. Sam was fighting harder. She wasn't winning, but she had been an Alpha too. Her will was strong, and while she couldn't break my control, she could throw it off for a time. She pushed, surging, and managed to come at me again.

There was a blur. Emond, nimble and small, bounded at her. To my horror, it looked as though he might actually be diving between us. To my relief, he landed against her side, his palms outstretched, pushing her sideways. Even with his strength, he couldn't have stopped her or kept her from meeting me. But what happened next made no sense.

Sam went flying. It wasn't that he was stronger. Something happened to her. She phased, but it was wrong. She didn't phase from a wolf into a human; she phased from a human into a wolf backwards. It was hard to put into words, but when you've seen wolves phase as much as I have, it gets into your head and your heart. I knew it in my bones that something was wrong. It was like watching something fall upwards or watching flame freeze into ice.

Sam hit the ground and rolled, crying out as she landed wrong. Her arm broke, the bone clearly and cleanly split. I could hear it from where I stood, perfectly with my wolf ears. But, something was wrong. She rolled on the ground, clutching her arm, grunting in pain. And... she wasn't Sam anymore.

She was Sam, but she was different. She was smaller, thinner, muscle and bulk replaced with a bit of extra fat and a physique that looked almost slender in comparison. She looked... normal.

She looked scared, stunned, in shock, and pained. She turned and vomited on the earth, and that was when I knew. It was over. We had to leave. We had to leave and never come back. My son had just unmade her. They would hurt him if he returned. They might kill him.

I closed my eyes and dug deep. I found the cords, deep in me, the lines that connected me to them, to the pack. I felt the ties the Alpha felt to each, to the land that I called my own, that I knew needed my protection. And, with sheer will, I dug them out of me.

It hurt. I was like pulling meat hooks out of my flesh, the hard way. I ripped it all out, all away. Turning, I looked at my boy. He looked scared, looking to me for help. But he could read my expression.

He phased, his clothing falling away, all in one piece. The little white wolf joined me, and we turned, bolting into the forest. They didn't follow. I knew where we had to go. There was only one place left for us now.

* * *

Edwina

Ben is confused. I can't blame him. It took me time to process it as well. Relatively, anyway.

"Say that one more time," he says. "I have what?"

"You have vampire cells in you," said Katherine. "It is a very small number, less than one in every hundred billion, by my estimate. I can only guess at the long term effects if you continue to live as a human. In several dozen years, it might result in some very strange or entirely new forms of cancer, but it might have no effect on you at all."

He shakes his head, "How? How did this even happen?"

I nod, "Vampire venom is largely composed of RNA."

He considers my words, "Wait, it is made of genetic material? Why?"

"Besides being a less complicated form of DNA," I explain, "RNA has the added benefit of being able to fold and function like a protein as well."

"Venom initiates a feedback loops," say Katherine. "Once enough is in your system, it will activate itself and cascade the effects necessary to start transforming your body. If there isn't enough to facilitate the transformation, your body will eventually dispose of the venom as waste. Or so I thought. It turns out that even below threshold, venom can change small clusters of cells. I don't know what your ejaculate was like on the day, but it is likely that, given blood flow during sexual activities, that the venom had a relatively large affect on your sperm."

"Which means what, exactly?" asks Ben.

"Well," she says, "what that means is, for a short time, you had a male vampire's ejaculate. Even now, some of your sperm have the genome of a male vampire. I cannot be entirely sure, but given what has transpired between you and Jocelyn Black, I believe it is possible for male vampires to be fathers if they pair with a female human."

Ben shakes his head again, "That doesn't explain how I was able to get her pregnant in the first place."

I shrug, "Who can guess? It might have been one of the varieties of RNA in the venom. It might have been some biological reaction she had to you. It might have had something to do with the power that allows her to transform in the first place."

This line of discussion started all well and good but as I am thinking about this information, slowly, new ideas are coming into my mind. Ben can have children, even when he becomes a vampire. He just won't be able to have them with me. What does that mean, for us? What should I do if he wants to have another? Could I stand it again, if he decides to go back to Josie? Should I find him a second or a surrogate? Would he accept that? What did this mean for our future?

And then, as if on cue, Alice sighs.

Ben doesn't hear it, since she's in her room, and no one else in the house knows, except maybe Jasper, why she is sighing because they can't see what I can. The future is about to vanish again. In a few minutes, a wolf is going to be here. And I am willing to bet a second child between her and Ben that it is her, again.

Ben looks at me, and I swear, for a moment, I would have thought he could read my mind.

"Where's Alice?" he asks, knowing without really understand, perhaps willfully not wanting to.

"Here," she says, coming down the stairs.

"Again?" asks Emanuel, who had been silently sitting beside Katherine as she spoke to us as we all sat in the living room.

"I'm afraid so," said Alice. "Same direction and all, it looks like. But she's coming faster. I think she might be in her wolf form."

Ben stands and we join him. We walk out the back door, standing as before. Jasper comes to stand on the far side, away from Ben. Without Emily, he doesn't like the odds. I doubt it will come to a fight.

We are waiting when I feel their minds. I catch Alice's thought as I begin to waver in her mind and vanishing.

 _Mama,_ thinks the little one, full of nervous energy.

 _It will be alright, baby,_ thinks Josie to her son. _I am going to be right here. Just stay. I will be just up that way. Just be your other self and stay here._

 _No!_ he protests, whining his cub whine.

He is scared. He did something he expects to be punished for. He doesn't recognize this place or understand why they are here.

She tries to hide her worry, to have only reassuring thoughts, focus on the task, trying to hide as much as she can from him, trying to protect him.

 _Stay here,_ she thinks, _please. You can stay as in this form if you like, but keep quiet and don't come out until I say it's safe._

He thinks his agreement to her, comfortable sharing himself in this way. He finds a cool spot under a bush where he will be less conspicuous and settles in.

She sighs and walks forward. She comes to the spot where she stopped and spoke before. She stays a wolf, begrudging thinks, _Can you hear me?_

"Yes," I say, knowing she can hear me.

She claps down on her mind, trying to keep anything she can from getting through, other than the communication she wants.

 _I need your help,_ she thinks. But already she is slipping. I can see her fear, she that she is afraid of our potential anger with her for running before. More specifically, she is afraid of Ben's anger.

"He's here," I say, seeing no reason why I should keep anything from her if she can't keep anything from me. "He isn't angry. You are welcome here. Both of you."

She growls, low and deep in her throat, but her thoughts make the sound reproachful, mostly directed at herself.

She sends a thought to the child, and he comes bounding happily to catch up. They come closer and exit the woods just on the other side of the creek.

The two together are a sight, the large reddish-brown wolf, massive and imposing, standing defensively over her young, the lanky, pure white pup with golden eyes. Vampire eyes.

To my surprise, those golden eyes lock on mine, and he gives a happy little yip. Before Josie can stop him, he pads gamely to the creek and jumps it. In haste and fear, she follows, landing half in the water, but isn't able to close her teeth on the nape of his neck. He runs right for me, and I kneel. He bounds up and begins to lick my face. He remembers me. Mine was the first face he saw, and he thinks I'm beautiful.

I let him go and step back, just as Josie grips him and pulls him back. He relents with the understanding that there is nothing he can do to stop her or protest, and she circles back, her hind feet nearly back in the water, her worry dissipating.

"He isn't in any danger," says Emanuel, sounding concerned himself. "We aren't going to harm either of you."

She growls.

"She knows," I translate. "She was startled is all."

He whines to be let down, and she refuses until he agrees to stay put.

As soon as he has his feet, he looks around, and to my surprise, he recognizes Ben too. I get an image of Ben. He is in his bedroom window, as seen from the yard. The pup had snuck away several nights ago, and found my scent, following it to Ben's home. His mother is not happy about this. But beyond this memory, the boy has no idea who Ben is.

I look at Ben and he is doing all he can to hold himself together. I can see in his posture how much he wants to walk forward, to cross from us to them.

I hear Josie's thoughts, her fear is wholly renewed, especially after seeing Ben's pain, so apparent in his eyes. She fears a backlash, fears feeling responsible for that pain, fears her son's rebuke, and tries desperately to hide all of this from him. At last, she phases back, giving a little jump to be clear of her son, and lands behind him. She clutches the large wolf cub to her, covering her nudity. Finally letting go of trying to hide her fear, forgetting for the moment that I can still hear her.

"We need sanctuary," she says, thinking of her standing before the counsel, and them sentencing her to exile in all but name, over the fear of her half vampiric son.

I hiss, quietly, finding myself deeply offended that such old prejudices would run so deep. The pup cocks his head curiously at me, and I find myself stopping and smiling at him.

"You are welcome here," says Katherine, "and gladly. We do not keep a guest room because our usual guests do not require them, but we are glad to give you accommodations, for as long as you need them."

Josie's look couldn't quite hide the fact that she expected a qualifier. Her gaze falls upon Ben, and she doesn't want their son to know who he is.

"We make no qualifications upon you while you live here," I say. "However, we have no obligation to lie for you."

Her glare is so fierce, her son stiffens in her arms.

"So," says Josie, "that's how it's going to be."

"No," I say. "That's your fear talking, again. You have no right to demand we do anything. We are here, offering you what you need, but we do not have to give you what you want. You may do as you wish. It's up to you."

 _I hate you!_ her thoughts try to sear me.

"I know," I say casually. "I don't hold that against you."

In a blur, the pup becomes a young boy. We all pause.

To say that he has grown somehow doesn't seem to cover the full scope of the change. Upon his birth, he already appeared closer to a year old than a newborn. Now, he looks as though he has aged almost four months in seventeen days. At this rate, he would be hitting puberty in approximately two years. What would happen six months after that when he hit the relative ago of sixteen? Would he go through the traditional growth spurt the wolves did and be fully grown? Would his aging stop then? How long would he be alive? How immortal was he?

Once I have deconstructed this thought, I continue looking, drinking in this little boy who is the undeniable progeny of the man I love.

He is precious, instantly. Aside from the genetic predetermined appeal of the very young, his face is as symmetrical as any immortal's. He is not a perfect balance of the two, but his genes have expressed a combination that perfectly balances the best features of both his parents, making him exceptional even by vampire standards. His skin is luminous, as I remember, with a hint of immortal sheen, but still soft and with a healthy luster that comes from blood flowing through him. His heart trills in his chest, faster than any humans, but strong and even. He still has healthy amounts of baby fat and is in excellent physical health with above average muscle tone. His eyes are Ben's almost exactly, so much so that, aside from their age, I would have trouble telling the two apart without determined study. His hair is long and straighter then Ben's with a bit of the shine his mother's has. But all together, it has nothing when compared with the child himself.

His expression is mature, so much more than even children with an additional ten years of experience. His consciousness is organized and sharp, having all the analytic and eidetic qualities of a vampire's mind, but with all the dynamic and flexible elements of a human one. He is unapologetic, comfortable with others sharing his mind, forgiving, despite his mother's fears, and sincere, willing to act without concern. Yet, despite all this, he is still young. He is unsure of the world and needs reassurance. He knows that unfair things happen and is worried about the future. He is concerned about feeling accepted and loved.

And in that moment, I want to rip the child from his mother. I find myself wanting to defend him from her fear and her mistrust, wanting her not to spoil his innocence, wanting to protect him and provide for him, to love him as my own. And from the minds of my family, there isn't a one who disagrees with me.

In that moment, seeing what Ben and Josie have created from their love, I am completely overwhelmed by jealousy so thick, I begin to lose myself, to lose the world around me. A hand finds the small of my back, and a plum of relaxation and warm flows into me, and I turn to see Jasper standing beside me, smiling reassuringly, if a bit sadly.

"I'm okay," I say, but hold to him and don't let him withdraw just yet.

Ben has only eyes for Josie. He looks so heartbroken, and Jasper, who is so focused on caring for his family, is about as far from unstable as he can be. He puts a hand on Ben's shoulder, letting him feel everything, but slows the rate at which all his emotions flow and simmer, allowing each its own time, preventing him from being swallowed.

Tears fill his eyes, and he looks to them both.

"Josie," he all but whispers. "Please..."

Something inside of her gives way, or maybe breaks is a more appropriate term. She concedes, giving in, consigning herself to all the fear and the pain that is to come.

Ben, with an almost casual pace, a self assuredness that I had rarely seen in him, walks forward, stopping just out of arms reach of the two. The boy is curious, interested, though a little weary. He sees something in Ben, something he recognizes but can't name, something he doesn't fully understand, something he feels inclined to want to cleave to, but is almost instinctively afraid might be withdrawn should he choose to.

Ben kneels, his head even with the child's and I can see him smile through his son's eyes, open and awed.

"Hello," he says, "what's your name?"

"Emond," says the boy, a small smile coming to his own lips.

Ben is shocked, his eyes going momentarily to Josie's face. Her apparent embarrassment nearly blots out her quick thought, revealing to me that the choice had been Ben's, as confessed to her in the days when they had been together and happy.

Ben's smile returns.

"That's a nice name," he says Emond. "My name is Benjamin, but everyone calls me Ben."

Emond looks curious, but says nothing.

"Like your mom," he says. "Her name is Jocelyn, but everyone calls her Josie."

Emond nods, grinning, but then, he his face becomes shocked. He looks closer at Ben's face, though with my gift, I already see the connection the young boy has made.

"You're my dad," he says.

Ben looks shocked too, scared even, as scared as Josie looks too. They exchange a glance neither seeming to find the help they so desperately desire.

Ben looks back to him, and says exactly what the man I know him to be would say.

"Yes," he says. "I'm your dad. I love you very much. I know we have never met before and I wish we could have met sooner, but it wasn't time yet. I'm here now, and I think you are the most amazing little boy I've ever known. I'm so glad I finally get to meet you."

With a force that could have injured Ben, Emond goes to him, clings to him. I cross the distance brusquely, removing my blouse and putting it around Josie.

She sniffs, both in disgust at the smell and disgust that I would compromise my own modesty for the sake of hers. She hates the cream colored lace bra I have on as well as my "perfect little tits", wondering if Ben and I are sleeping together yet. The blouse is too small for her, and she shamelessly burst the seams on the sleeves as she forces her arms in, barely buttoning her way to only slightly more modesty than being completely nude.

This whole time, Emond has been hugging his father, whispering "Dad", over and over. Ben holds him tightly back, silent tears streaming down his face. Josie softens to the two of them together, suddenly feeling apart and alone. I want to encourage her to join them, but, as if on cue, Ben opens his eyes and looks over their child's hair to her. His eyes are empty of reproach or rebuke. He has nothing but forgiveness for her. She waffles, feeling suddenly like she isn't worth his kindness, but he won't let it go. He steps the two strides, their child between them, and embraces her to them with his free arm. She shutters and give an almost inaudible sob as she hugs them back. Emond squeezes around to hug than both, their family united. Suddenly, their joy ebullient, Ben smiles at her, and before I can prepare myself, or she can second guess herself, she kisses him. Ben seems surprised but does not pull away. Before I can worry about stifling my fear, Jasper is there again. I know that I can't leave him, not until I can be okay again, lest I be lost.

My family and I melt into the background. We stay back a very respectful distance, so much so that we seem apart, but everything is still clear to our senses. We all are taking joy in Ben's reunion, even if I need Alice and Jasper at my side to see it.

Ben romps with his son. Within minutes, they are in the grass, rolling and playing together. The boy is strong and tough, playing with a vigor that belays his childish appearance. I can see Ben have to catch his breath now and again, as the boy bounds around as though he is impervious to fatigue.

"You're not the same as mom," he says, looking at Ben.

"No," says Ben grinning. "We're boys. She's a girl."

"No!" Emond says, exasperated. "You are not as strong, not as tough."

Ben grins, "It's hard to be tough like your mom. Most people aren't."

Emond nods, considering.

"You don't live here," he says, looking up at the house.

"No," agrees Ben. "I live at my house, for now. I will live here someday, though."

"Someday?" asks Emond.

"Yes," says Ben. "With Edwina."

Emond looks over and sees me, and he smiles.

"I like her," he says beaming.

"I swear," says Josie, "it's in your blood."

Ben laughs a little.

Without a care, Emond bounds over to us, and plops himself with equal carelessness in my lap. Josie looks rather tense, like she might have to slaughter us at any moment if we make a bid for her child's blood. She fears that we might find him appealing and be a danger to him.

"It's okay," I say, finding myself holding this warm, sturdy little life to me as he examines my skin, tracing it with a pudgy digit.

"He smells very good," I say to Josie, my voice carrying though it isn't loud, "but not like human blood. He smells a bit like we do, and a bit like you do, and just a bit like a human; Spice and Earth and succulence, but not edible."

"That's so reassuring," says Josie sarcastically.

Ben rolls his eyes, "Oh don't be a bitch, Jos!"

There is an instant of stunned silence. I can't recall a single time I've ever heard Ben swear at all. Josie feels herself wanting to slip into an old habit, an old pacing and tone their social interactions used to take, but is afraid that they won't be the same, is afraid they can't ever go back to the way they were.

At last, she smiles, and it looks beautiful on her. Life pours into her, and she looks happy, present, fulfilled. Her expression is mirrored in Ben, and it is hard to feel jealous or insecure when he looks that way. It feels worth it.

Emond turns and moves to Alice's lap. While she isn't particularly maternal, she doesn't look uncomfortable at all with the little boy in her arms. At most she feels slightly annoyed that her gift has vanished so entirely while interacting with him directly, but she doesn't mind too much.

"You're different from her," says Emond. Alice smiles, a lightly secretive smile.

"Aren't you a bright boy?" she says. "Some of us are born who we want to be. Others have to figure it out before they can be who they really are."

Emond considers this. I feel something in his thoughts. He has sensed her differences, and Jasper's as well, with his senses, but there is another sense that I don't fully understand there. It is as though he feels them, as he touches them, but it's deeper than that, as if he is feeling who they are, what they are. It is a sense tied to something within him, something I have never sensed before.

He tries to feel Alice, then Jasper, trying to get a feeling for who they are. Then, he reached over and touches me again, questing for differences.

"You weren't always like this," he says. "You were once more like Dad."

Every member of my family stops, turning to look at him, then stilling in surprise. Even Josie looks a little uncomfortable. Only Ben seems completely relaxed. Naturally.

"What makes you say that, buddy?" he asks his son.

He looks at Ben, "They are like you, but more. More than mom, too."

"Actually, he's right," says Katherine. "Vampires have fifty chromosomes, twenty five pairs, as opposed to the twenty three pairs that humans have."

"Mom is in the middle," says Emond helpfully. "But her extra stuff is different."

Katherine looks interested.

"Twenty four pairs?" she asks. "Interesting. How about you? Can you sense yourself?"

He looks confused, "I didn't know I could."

He touches his own hands and tries to focus. He isn't getting anything. It is hard to put into words, but it is like trying to see air or taste your tongue. It's is so consistent and all-encompassing, he can't get a handle on it.

"It's okay," I say, patting his back the moment he starts to feel dejected. "If you're not be able to, there's nothing wrong with that."

He looks at me, and realizes I can read his mind. He recognizes someone reacting to his thoughts rather than his expression. He beams. I grin back, letting him know he's right.

He leaps up, trundling his way back to his mother. She catches him with a comfortable grace, absorbing his momentum that would have flattened Ben.

"Mama!" he proclaims enthusiastically. "I like it here."

"That's great, baby," she says, squeezing him as he settles in her lap and begins nursing. She doesn't seem embarrassed, but cannot meet Ben's eye as she does so. After taking this in, Ben politely turns away.

While this is going on, my family is already beginning a discussion, at extreme speeds and quiet enough not to interfere with Josie and Ben, about how to manage adding more permanent housing in order to keep Josie and Emond. I point out that Josie is adverse to our scent, and after some additional logistics, Emanuel begins planning modifications to be made to the garage in order to make a comfortable living area. He is making a list of supplies he will need to make and begins putting together the project and wondering how long it will take to complete it. He kisses my mother's cheek and takes Emily's Jeep to go to the nearest trailer rental outlet before heading to the nearest large housing renovation and supply store in the area.

Katherine stands, making a show of brushing herself off.

"I'm sure that some of you must be hungry," she says, smiling at Emond who had since finished his meal and was hanging on his mother's shoulders as she told Ben about the counsel's decision. He didn't look happy.

"I'm starved," says Ben, standing as well.

"We have clothes that can fit you," say Alice to Josie, "far better than what you're wearing, anyway."

Josie expression is somewhat torn, and she can't decide if we are making fun of her, talking down to her, or just overly helpful.

"Come on, mom," says Emond, tugging at her hand. She finally stands, a bit awkwardly so as to not flash us, and allows herself to be dragged with us.

"We have clothes for Emond too," says Alice. Josie is instantly suspicious.

"Is that a psychic thing?" she asks.

Ben chuckles, "No, just an Alice thing. She's about as eager to shop as you are to hate vampires."

She doesn't look happy by the comment. Emond looks back and for between them, not understanding. He asks for me to explain, in his head, as he would as his wolf self.

"Your mother fights vampires," I say to him. "She kills them if they hurt people."

He sees wolves fighting each other in his head, and he is afraid for his mother. He sees memories of them fighting our kind, and finally connects the word vampire with what we are.

To everyone's surprise but mine, he leaves his mother and runs to me, leaping onto me throwing his arms around me.

"No," he complains, holding tight to me. Ben smiles. Josie looks torn.

I hold him back, stroking his hair and pat his back.

"It's okay," I sooth him. "We do not hurt people. It isn't always easy, but it is important to us. We have an agreement with The Pack. They aren't going to hurt us unless we do something to deserve it."

He pulls back and looks at me, deeply empathic fear in his expression. I would give anything to take that away. I settle for brushing his round cheeks and smiling. He smiles too, squirming a little at the intense sensation.

"Come," I say, still holding the boy and turning towards the house.

We walk inside, Josie wary and Emond interested. I realize that he has never been indoors since his birth. He recognizes this place only vaguely, mostly by scent.

We move slowly towards the kitchen, Josie really drinking her surroundings in since she isn't hurried this time. She sees each new piece of art or article of furniture or new space as a luxury to which she herself cannot compare. She sees these things as check marks in a column, excuses as to why Ben would choose me over her. She is scared and insecure, and that is the best way she has for dealing with such unease. But then, as near the kitchen, her thoughts change direction.

"What would you like?" asks Ben of his son, sounding both happy and excited in a way I have never heard from him.

Emond looks at him, "For what?"

Ben straightens and is unsure how to answer the question.

I look at Emond and squeeze him gently to get his attention.

"This room is called a kitchen," I say. "It is where humans and wolf people keep their food and prepare it for eating."

He looks around, taking it in. He glances at his dad.

"Why do you have a kitchen then?" he asks. "Do other humans live here?"

I smile, "Do you know why wolves fight vampires?"

He thinks.

"They are scared," he says, "that vampires might hurt them."

I nod, "Yes. And if humans found out, don't you think they would be scared too?"

He considers, _But you don't hurt people._

My expression becomes a little sad, "Humans don't always behave rationally. They fear what they do not understand."

Emond nods, "Yeah."

Josie is terrified. She believes that I have stolen Ben from her, and now she is afraid that I will steal away her son. What is worse, she sees the moneyed provider I and my family could be, sees me answering his questions without him needing to speak them, sees me relieving his fears and knowing him every moment the way she can only get in wolf form, when her imperfects are laid as bare as his thoughts. And seeing all these supposed facts, she's tempted to let me have him. She sees only her flaws and none of mine, so naturally, she sees me as the better choice. I want to correct her, to comfort her, but she would never accept it from me. She might not even accept it from Ben at the moment.

Instead, I angle myself so that Emond can see his mother. He sees her expression and instantly feels for her. He completely slackens his grip on me and plops to the floor, running and climbing up his mother. Her wraps his arms and legs about her, holding himself close to her.

She smells him. She can smell his slightly wolf musk, his spice wisp of vampire, now intermingled with mine and my family's, which is sickly sweet to her, but she can smell Ben on him too and he is all the more a comfort because of it.

"I love you, mommy," he says, quietly.

I turn to Ben, and together we give the two a moment as we begin producing a large batch of blueberry pancakes.

While Ben and I are measuring and mixing ingredients in a large bowl, I carefully bump my hip to his.

"How are you?" I ask, showing happy compassion on my face.

He looks at his child embraced by Josie Black, in our kitchen. I am not entirely sure what could be going through his mind, but I am sure there is a lot of meaning and mismatched emotions there.

"I can't think," he says, which almost pulls a laugh at of me. Naturally, I am entirely wrong about him. One would suppose that I should have learned by now.

"I am sort of here, ya know?" he asks rhetorically. "I'm not spending time up in my head. Everything is here and right now. This is what life is."

I can't help but empathize deeply with Josie in that moment. I cannot but see all the benefits of him being with her, and all the reasons he should not be with me.

"Has anything changed," I ask, "for you?"

He looks at me, surprised, but it quickly melts away to amusement.

"Is my vampire feeling insecure?" he asks, leaning forward and kissing my hair.

It is utterly impossible to put into words how meaningful this is to me, how thrilling my response to him is. I want to sink into myself in relief and fly with girlish delight, and growl and grumble that we are not alone that I might have my way with him and yet so full and peaceful that even though I do none of these things, I feel as gratified as if I have done them all and more.

"I love you," I say. The smile we exchange is worth more to me than if we could have truly made love in the best way possible, perfectly, in that moment.

We go back to cooking, and only then do I recognize that Josie had been pay more attention to us than I had considered. She seems pleased that I might be insecure and not as perfect as she seemed to think but put out that it makes me more of a person to her. She hates how much harder it is to hate me the more time she spends around me. I keep my amusement at the irony of that to myself.

I stand and let Ben handle the actual cooking part. He chats with me and Josie aimlessly as he does so, smiling and pulling faces at Emond. My family gives us lots of space, but they listen often and enjoy our visitors quiet a lot.

Emond tells us about living in the woods with the Wolves and how much he liked playing with Quinn and Amber, who I can tell Ben knows very well from his brief comments and slightly conspiratorial glances he shares with Josie, both grinning at remembered events, one of which involves Quinn flirting Ben. His response in Josie's mind was something to behold, him looking smoother and more confident than I had ever seen him act, even with me. It stirs a strange feeling of longing in me, though it could be residual longing from Josie's memory. I get the briefest inclination that she had fantasized over that memory many, many times.

Ben chats with Josie a bit more, and we are both somewhat surprised when we learn that Emond has never had real food before.

As I am about to ask why he never has, I catch a thought that he has been trying desperately, and so far successful, to hide from his mother. He has been drinking blood. He doesn't particularly enjoy the deer blood he's had, but it appeals to him in an almost aesthetic way, much like soothing an ache, I suppose.

He glances at me, and I smile to say I won't tell her.

Ben finishes a large stack of pancakes, and while he browns them more than I would have, they are well made.

"You are in for a treat, buddy," says Ben, buttering the pancakes and drizzling real maple syrup. Josie reluctantly takes her own plate, preparing them herself with only syrup, in an able but unpracticed manner.

Emond looks slightly nonplussed at how to proceed, but Ben, his own plate before him, cuts his own pancake with his fork, doing do in a deliberate and overt way that could be observed easily by his son.

Emond immediately picked up his fork and began duplicating the motions, his grip becoming more sure with every passing moment, his method dramatically improving before he finally spears the triangle of cut food and, unsure corrals the sticky dripping mass between his lips. For a moment, he is at a complete loss. I can feel in his thoughts as the entirety of the world ceases to be, and all that matters is this new taste, this new sensation. He proceeds to begin forking more into his mouth, shredding the pancake with his fork and eating with such vigor, there is a tinkling screech as he bends one of the tines of his fork with his teeth in his zeal.

Josie fires up to be repressive, feeling embarrassed, but at Ben's open amusement and enjoyment, she seems to relax and soon, all three of us are laughing at the child's exuberance.

I watch them eat for nearly half an hour and am astounded by how much the wolves can eat. Ben seems unsurprised by the fact that his son, approximately a seventh his mass, has eaten nearly twice as many pancakes as him. Josie has eaten nearly three times more than her son. Ben is already cutting up some fresh fruit while the two are still eating, adding them to Emond's plate while placing a scoop of fresh blueberries to Josie's. He munches a few himself and Emond enjoys eating with his hands as much as the stabbing and cutting fork.

"Fork," I say since I noticed he had no name for the utensil. It takes Josie a moment to understand who I am talking to and why, while Ben is already starting to point and name other accessories to eating, giving them a brief description. Emond is grinning, his teeth smeared with strawberry pulp.

I clean as they finish up. Ben is so focused, for once he does not protest or even join in. I have to take a moment to remind myself that the change means nothing more than it appears to be, actually. Soon, we all can see that Emond is fading fast.

"I need a nap," he says, hopping from his chair. There is a shimmer, and a slightly sticky wolf cub lands, lazily licking residual syrup off his front.

"The couch is welcome to him," I say, "or the bed in my room."

Josie's desire to not have her son sleep in a bed that his father and I have had sex in is nearly comically violent.

"It's never been used," I add, trying not to imply that I have said this to alleviate her concerns.

Emond cocks his head at me, confused. From the imagines in his thoughts, I realize his misunderstanding.

"You do not have to return to the woods to sleep," I say to him. "You can sleep here, inside."

He tosses his head in a way very reminiscent of someone rolling their eyes.

"Here," says Ben, walking with him to the living room and sitting upon the couch, much in the same way he had before they had arrived.

The pup that is Emond looks unsure, but trots over and carefully climbs up, settling into the couch and dropping his head upon Ben's lap. He is asleep in moments. Ben slowly and carefully strokes the young wolf's fur, and the child's breathing takes on the barest hint of a contented sigh, just on the edge of my comprehension.

I look up, seeing Josie walking out onto the back patio of the kitchen, still in the torn shirt she had worn before. I dash soundlessly to Emily's closet, taking down a few articles that she has never worn, simple, modest pieces. Touching them as little as possible, I bring them downstairs and out the back door. Josie is leaning against a back railing that overlooks the yard. The pitch of the land is such that this area is nearly a full story higher on this side of the house. The rail is decorative, more farce to hide what we are. She sees it and hates us for it.

I set the clothing on a chair. She sees it, and immediately, she shreds the shirt she is wearing, tearing it from her form in one easy movement. Holding the single piece of tattered clothing, she keeps her gaze on mine, unapologetic, uncompromising, studying me.

My gaze is even more unwavering than hers. I have seen much of her, and a renewed study without purpose would not benefit me. I am not concerned with comparing her to me, nor am I threatened by her in this way.

She breaks the contact first, treating it as dismissive rather than submissive. She searches through the clothing and finds two articles that she tries not to admit to herself that she actually likes. She slips them on and they fit well enough. Crossing her arms, trying to ignore the smell, she cocks her hip and looks at me again.

"You're not going to steal my child too," she says finally, as expected.

I don't stop her. She needs to get it out.

"You think just because Ben buys into this meek little monster crap that my baby will too?" she asks acidly. "It's not gonna happen! I'm his mother and he will never love you!"

I remain seeming unaffected by her words, but in truth, I want to fight back. I want to scream at her, protest that I am not a monster, that Ben chose me and that she needs to get over it. I want to rage and bitch and act like a prissy, self-important teenage girl, full of seeming confidence and poise and power. It is the stupidest and most surprising feeling I have felt in some time.

I take a few seconds to feel these feelings. It is easy to see why I want to feel them. It is the same reason she wants to put me in my place; it feels good. I would feel powerful and right and justified and in some ways better by doing this. But it would be a hollow victory. I do not want to feel better. I want to be better.

"You're right," I say. "I'm a monster. I stole your boyfriend away from you. It is entirely my fault that you feel as though you are losing your son."

She glowers really impressively.

"Don't mock me," she says.

"Truly, I'm not," I say. "Blaming me makes you feel better. So, please; blame me. I make an excellent scapegoat."

Her glower lost much of its fearsome appearance.

I listen to her thoughts, her pain starting to leak through her anger.

"You feel like you've lost everything," I say gently. "Your land, your pack, your family, your home, and Ben. Your son is all you have left. It is understandable that you would cling to him and want to protect him. And that's okay; I hold no grudge against you for it."

She back up, leaning against the rail, looking away.

"You would do well to keep one thing in mind, though," I say.

She looks sharply at me.

"What's that?" she asks bitterly.

"You are not worthless without your son," I say. "He is important and lovely, but you are more than his mother. You do not have to sacrifice all to be with him. You are entitled to your own life. Ben can help you, and so can my family. He is a joy and worth caring for. You do not have to give up everything for him. You are worth more than to live in your son's shadow."

She keeps looking out into the woods, the silence growing long and distant.

"Will you stop that!" she demands at last with a sigh.

"Stop what?" I ask, coming up next to her, though keeping out of arm's reach.

She smirks, "Making it so hard to keep hating you."

I smile as well, deciding that I can give her a bit more of what she wants, if not in the way she wants it.

"I wish that Ben didn't love you," I say honestly. "It might even be easier if I thought there was no valid reason for him to. But there is. From what I've seen, you are an exemplary young woman, Josie Black. As imperfect as the next, but there is more than enough reason for Ben to love you."

She takes a long, harsh breath.

"I wish that I could say that he made the wrong decision," she says. "I wish that I could say I love him more, or better, but I don't. But it doesn't stop me from wanting him or wanting him to still change his mind."

I nod, "I don't think he will. He still might, but it is unlikely."

She smiles. In her thoughts, she is considering making me a bridesmaid if he does. She decides against it.

"So," she says blithely, "have you slept with him yet?"

"No," I answer honestly. "It isn't our time yet. He... wants things resolved first; with his son, and with you."

Her mind is suddenly a cascade of images, a series of scenes, play-like; him sitting with Emond on the couch, him out here with her instead of me, having a heart to heart with her, then, all his ducks in a row, fleeing with me for all the guilt-free sex his body can stand. She begins wondering how he could possibly be interested in copulating a stone body, a virtual corpse, though her phrases are considerably more crass.

"We don't know if we can," I admit. "We may not be able to, not until he is immortal too."

Her thoughts fray and fragment.

"Great," she says. "No wonder he is so set on being immortal. God, that is so Ben!"

I stare at her, but I don't need to read her mind to know she doesn't really mean it. I smile invitingly, and she realizes she is blaming me again and tries not to be angry about it.

"Do you think Ben can't be happy with me?" I ask.

She glares, "No."

I nod, "Do you think you can't be happy without him?"

She glares harder, "No."

"Then we all might just have a shot at being happy," I say.

Ben walks up to the door, looking for us. He spots us and is momentarily dismayed, then tries to hide it. I step up.

"Come on," I say, taking his hand and dragging him out to her. He doesn't take much convincing, finally coming to stand in my place at the railing. I kiss his cheek.

"Take all the time you need," I say to him, to both of them really, and walk inside.

Once there, I take Ben's place on the couch. I curl next to Emond and watch him sleep. He doesn't hold nearly the fascination Ben does when he sleeps, but it is an interest far beyond anyone else I have ever known. He is beautiful, human or wolf, and he is not a quiet sleeper, much like his father. His tiny yips and whines are not enough to drown out the conversation transpiring on the patio.

"I owe you an apology," says Ben. His tone is a bit flat and grave.

"Oh?" says Josie, giving nothing. She is still trying to decide how difficult she is going to make this for him.

"I shouldn't have kissed you today," he says. "That wasn't fair."

She looks at him, undeniable anger seething in her. She takes a moment to make sure she isn't losing control, and she isn't.

"Really?" she asks, indignant disbelief palpable in her words. "Really? That is what you think you should apologize for?"

Ben snorts, amused.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, "for me to sit here and apologize for all that I put you through? I am willing to. You certainly deserve to drag me over the coals. But will it really make you feel better?"

Josie makes a sound that sounds like it would have been a snort, but her throat is so constricted, she chokes on it.

"You sound like her," she says.

He smiles, "Maybe. Maybe she's starting to sound like me. Either way, I am grateful."

"Grateful?" she asks, not understanding.

"Josie," he says gently, "can I ask you something?"

She gets instantly defensive.

"What?" she asks, unwilling to commit until she knows what his question is.

"Why do you want to be with me?" he asks.

I find myself very interested in her response.

She locks up. She refuses to think, refuses to convey words. She is terrified, and she doesn't know how to reply.

Ben sees. He shifts his weight back to his feet, moving out of his lean against the rail. Her fear and reluctance redoubles.

"No," she whispers as he steps towards her, and while I would have halted, he looks at her posture, and seems to see something I cannot understand from my vantage, with my knowledge. She doesn't withdraw as he approaches her.

"No," she whispers again, ever weaker.

He slides his arms around her. She is shocked to note that she is taller than he is now, standing straight as she is, stiff with fear.

He doesn't falter or slow. He simply holds her, his cool warmth a balm upon her, his scent, mixed as it is with vampire and her son, is still a connection to old memories, deep and potent. She feels herself wanting to cave, to give in to this feeling, and she hates herself for it.

And then, she seems to split, to crack wide, and everything pours out. Everything she has been trying to deny bubbles to the surface. How selfishly she wanted Ben, how much she hates herself for trying to define herself by the man in her life, the pain of losing everything, of feeling left behind by her father, by Ben, her brothers, and then Ben again, then losing everything, having not even the clothes on her back, unable to provide anything but her presence to her son, not even a father.

And, deep down, her most defining and defiant shame; she knows. She knows that she is doing all of this to make herself feel better about herself, buffer herself, to feel safe, to stop herself from ever finding out if she really is as worthless as she fears she is. She can't let go of the self-delusion that she wants Ben because if she does, she is terrified it means she truly doesn't deserve him. She is so empty and afraid that she would rather rip the world asunder, denying what Ben and I truly want, simply to feel safe and right and keep him and be ignorant of her pain. She knows it and is willing to admit it, and for the first time, her hate eases a little.

"Don't," she sobs, trying to hold onto it.

"I fucked up," says Ben. "I fell for you. I told you everything I wanted to be able to say. I wanted so desperately for you to be the one that I tried to convince myself it was true. I never should have done it, but I did. Nothing I can say will undo the hurt I did to you. I don't ask for your forgiveness or your understanding because it isn't up to me if you chose to do either."

"No," she whispers weakly, her hands chucking at his shirt, pulling him tight to her.

"I love you," he says. "But as much as I care about you, it isn't enough to matter, which sucks. I don't want you to feel worthless, but I know you. I know I put you in a position to feel that way. This is my fault. It happened because of my stupidity, my ignorance, my imperfect understanding of who I am and what I want and what I thought I should do. But the world is what it is, and I am who I am. I can't change that any more than I can change the past. And as much as I wish I could say otherwise, I wouldn't if I could. I love her. She's what I want."

She cries. Hard. Deep, racking sobs split the air as she balls against him. They slump to their knees about half way through, and finally when her breathing becomes more regular and her mind clearer of grief, she decides to speak.

"You're an asshole," she says with a touch of levity.

"Yep," says Ben, smiling, squeezing her tighter.

"I gave it up too soon," she says, half-jokingly.

"Huh?" says Ben, drawing back from her. He sees her expression and understands. We both laugh at him. I remember where I am and place a hand over my mouth. Emond sleeps on. I massage his ears. He nestles closer to me.

"I am not complaining," she says, and I take a moment to start playing every piece of music I can play in my head at once as she thinks about them together again, this time in a willing and admiring fashion, full of detail and desire.

"I'm not either," he says, but his tone is more neutral. "I never imagined what that night could have meant for us. He is... he's everything."

Her slightly excited mood falters spectacularly, turning to a quiet pride and gratitude.

"We made one pretty baby," she admits, hugging him again before they help each other to their feet.

"Did...?" he asks, reluctant. "Did he have a hard time, with your people, being what he is?"

Josie sighs, sounding shaken.

"Yes," she says. "He wasn't welcome. They didn't banish him or anything, but they wouldn't accept him. You hear people say 'People fear what they do not understand', and you always think, 'Alright, we get it! We've learned that lesson already. Jeez.'. But clearly, we haven't."

Ben suppresses a chuckle, "Still afraid of vampires?"

Josie stifles a sudden, fierce anger.

"I'm not afraid of vampire!" she snarls.

Ben is completely unfazed.

"Why else would you not trust them if they have never given you a reason not to?" he asks.

"They kill people!" she exclaims.

"You're right," he concedes. "I should have said The Cullens rather than vampires."

She settles, unhappily.

"They..." she says not wanting to speak the words, not wanting to risk her wrongness reflecting poorly on her self-worth. "They aren't as bad as I thought they were. Some of them are decent..."

She bites back the word but finally says, "...people."

Ben laughs.

"They are," he says. "You're pretty decent yourself, for a shape-shifting bitch."

"Language," she says.

"Man," says Ben, "you really are a mom."

"Yeah, well," she says, grinning. "And you're really slacking on the dad joke front. Your son is almost three weeks old. I'd say you are about thirty-six billion dad jokes behind the norm."

"I'm such a slacker," he says.

They hug each other again.

"I missed you," says Josie softly.

"I didn't miss you at all," says Ben with overdone sarcasm.

She pulls back, glaring at him, half joking.

He points at himself, "Asshole, remember?"

A guffaw explodes out of her, which half turns into a sob as he holds her to him again.

"You grew again," he says.

"Still," she says. "I mean, I think I still am or was or whatever. Maybe it's a mama wolf thing."

"Maybe," he says.

There is a long pause.

"Are you going to become one of them still?" she asks, afraid to do so but needing to know.

"Yes," he says. "There aren't any definitive plans yet, but we are going off to school in the fall. I'm going to Dartmouth."

"Congratulations," says Josie. "What's Dartmouth?"

Ben laughs, "Ivy League. East coast. Big deal. Don't worry about Emond. I will find a way to help support you two while I'm away. Or, you could come. Or go somewhere else. Whatever. I will call every day. It's totally up to you."

She shook her head, "I can't even think about that yet. I can't think past today right now."

Ben squeezes her and steps back.

"Sure," he says. "I get it. Just remember, money isn't an object. You will have what you need."

"Thanks," she says. "I reserve the right to blow you off until I actually need it."

"Absolutely," says Ben.

She reaches up, touching his face.

"Can I kiss you?" she asks. "I know it doesn't mean anything; like, I am not trying to believe it means more than I want to kiss you and that you care about me. I am just asking."

She waits, terrified but prepared for a no. At length, Ben thinks, searching her face. Both Josie and I want to know what he is thinking. At last, his hands find the small of her back. It doesn't feel the same as the way he touches me. It is different, and I'm am not sure how that makes me feel. He holds her, and kisses her, lightly, slowly, sweetly. It is not a reserved act, but it isn't committed in abandon. The kiss ends, and it feels settled somehow, to Josie. She sees that their relationship has reached the end. Not the end of its meaning or that they will never interact again, but it will never progress. It is where it was always meant to come to. She doesn't know where they will go from here, but it will never be closer to each other than they are now. She wonders idly if they will have another child. I chuckle to myself. Looking at the child Emond sleeping upon my lap, I decide that I wouldn't mind that too terribly. Such beauty seems too priceless to limit. Even as a secondary parent, I believe that I could learn to love the role as much as Katherine and Emanuel do.

Josie is stepping back from Ben, deciding that they could discuss it later, trying to convince herself that she would be willing to have another child by Ben even without having sex with him, which is rather evidently not the case. Nor do I blame her. Was she more sure of her life, she would not need such distractions.

"I'm going to go," says Josie. "I'll sleep in the woods."

"You're welcome to sleep in the house," says Ben. "The couch is way more comfortable than you'd think."

"No," she says, her thoughts reflecting her words. "I need to say goodbye to the Earth. Also, I want to check in with my pack, make sure... they're okay."

Her thoughts are quick, and she is afraid I am listening. I catch that she fears danger and that she wants to make sure they are safe. I catch a glimpse of a fight and something she rather successfully keeps from me.

"Okay," says Ben, and he seems as convinced as I am that she's not telling the whole truth.

"Will you look after him?" she asks, plaintively.

"I can't," he says, "not the whole night. My mom will expect me home, and it isn't as though I can explain or that she will for one second accept me sleeping here."

I never thought about Ben spending the night here. The bed in my room had always been for my recreational activities, and whenever I thought of watching him sleep, him in his bed seemed a permanent fixture. What would it be like to have him here? Again, the recreational activities spring to mind, and I smile, deciding to enjoy the thought before letting it pass.

"But don't worry," says Ben. "The Cullens'll keep him safe. I am family to them, and Emond is family to me. That makes him family. It makes you family."

"Just don't call me your sister," she says.

He laughs, "Yeah, we have a kid together. Not going to be calling you that."

She sighs, touching his face.

"I'm going to miss us," she says. "The idea of us."

Ben nods, "I'm going to remember it and be grateful. I still love you, ya know. It may not be the way we thought we wanted it, but that's not going to change, even when I'm a vampire."

"Yeah," she says, disbelieving, "but you won't be you anymore."

"Says who?" he asks, sounding disheartened.

"Says me," she says. "No matter what you say you want now, vampires want blood more than anything in the world! They are willing to die to get it! Do you really think you'll be any different?"

A thought occurs to me. I haven't talked to Ben about this. I haven't told him at all about becoming a vampire. I haven't prepared him for any of it. Of course, Josie is right. Ben won't be the same. He will be a vampire. And vampires want different things. How can we possibly go to Dartmouth, be around people, or do anything we have planned if he is a vampire? One will have to wait. I know which I vote for, and I am pretty sure I know which he will. I wonder what he will say if I tell him I'm off to Dartmouth in the fall, no matter what. Will he go with me, or not?

"I..." says Ben, "I don't know. You changed when you became a wolf. It didn't change how you felt about me. I see no reason why me becoming a vampire will be any different."

Josie sighs. Just for a moment, she wonders what she would do if he killed someone. We both push the thought away, her in distaste, me in denial. If Ben does become a vampire, I will do all that I can to keep that from happening.

"I love you, Josie," says Ben. "I know you love me, too. And I'm here, even if I'm not physically here. I will help you and support you, and our son, even if I'm not human anymore."

 _Humans can become vampires. But can vampires become humans?_

I had been so focused on the two outside and had not noticed that Emond is now awake. He is still and listening, his wolf ears as sensitive as mine, apparently.

"No," I say, quiet enough that only he could hear. "There is no way to undo becoming a vampire."

"Thanks," says Josie. "No really, thank you. I might not say it, but you... Despite how things went down, you're a good person and a good dad. You're worth having children with, Ben. It means a lot, ya know. I... didn't exactly handle things the best... anyway. Thanks."

He pushes her shoulder, "You're such a girl!"

"Oh, shut up!" she smiles and hugs him. "I'll be back. I trust you with Emond. I might not trust these bloodsuckers, but I trust you. If you say he will be safe here, I believe you."

 _And will be fully justified when I slaughter the lot of them if anything happens to him,_ she thinks, rather hoping I hear her.

 _Are you sure vampires can't become humans?_ Emond thinks.

I smile, "There is no known way, anyway."

Ben walks quietly inside, but Emond sits up and yawns theatrically, wagging his tail and running to his father.

"Hey!" says Ben, lifting his suddenly human son up and setting him on his hip. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Yep," says Emond, smiling. "Where's mom?"

"She went to go say hi to you're friends back in La Push," he says. "She'll be back in the morning. I will too."

Emond looks momentarily scared. He doesn't want to feel left alone. Almost as though it is divined to be so, I catch a familiar mind.

There is a rustle of wind, and Rory is standing at the opposite end of the couch from Ben, looking shocked and awed.

"Who's that?" asks Emond, looking with fascination at my brother.

"That's Rory," says Ben. "He is Edwina's brother. He likes kids."

"He does?" asks Emond, enthusiastically. The boy leaps from his father arms and crosses the couch in two bounds, landing gamely on Rory's chest. Rory, to my stark disbelief, laughs.

He catches the boy easy and slings the suddenly squealing toddler over a shoulder.

"What is this thing?" he asks of no one in particular. "He doesn't have any clothes on!"

"Clothes are dumb!" Emond giggles.

"They are, aren't they?" says Rory. "But you know what? Humans are used to wearing clothes. When we don't wear them, humans are more likely to notice we're different."

"But we are different," says Emond, climbing to sit in Rory's arms so they can see each other.

"Yes," says Ben. "People aren't perfect. They have a hard time accepting others who are just like them. It is even harder to accept people who are so very different."

Emond looks uncertain, "I don't understand. I should be different?"

"No," says Ben, contrite. "You shouldn't change who you are, not for anyone."

He looks to me, for help. I understand and smile.

"Here, lovely boy," I whisper and immediately Emond drops back to the couch and curls to me. I hold him close, feeling his warm, his head bent to my breast, which he is comfortable having pillowed under him, despite my hardness.

"Do you know what a society is?" I ask him.

 _No,_ he thinks to me.

"A society is when many groups of people live together," I explain. "Each does some of the work for everyone so not everyone needs to do all the work for themselves. It can get very complex, but it usually works out for the best. The problem is, there are some rules to being a part of society. You have to agree to those rules if you want to be a part of it. It doesn't matter what you do, but understand that for your every action, there will be responses, reactions. If you chose to live within society, you have to follow the rules, and if you choose to live outside of society, there will be consequences that you have to deal with. And, if you choose to live in society and not follow the rules, there will be more consequences still."

"How will I know which is the right thing to choose?" he asks aloud.

I laugh.

"I don't know," I say. "No one does. We discover what consequences are likely with knowledge, by attempting things that may not work and learning from our mistakes. There is no correct answer to be found; you just have to try and do what makes you happy."

He breathes deeply, holding tight to me, close to me. He thinks long and hard, considering. After a moment, he looks up at me and smiles.

"Okay," he says. He hugs me, and gets up, walking over to Rory.

"I would like some clothes now please," he says. Rory smiles, picking him up.

"I'm sure Alice has something for you somewhere," he says, tucking the squirming toddler under one arm.

"A moment," I say. "I need to take Ben home."

Emond slinks down and runs over to give Ben a hug.

"You'll be back tomorrow?" he asks Ben.

"Yes," Ben says, patting his son gently. "I love you, buddy. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye, dad!" he says, and returns to Rory.

I walk with Ben to the car. I do not get to the main road before I pull over and hold him, crying, loudly, openly, happy and sad. I get him home carefully, and he manages to avoid his mother as much as possible. I return after I have relocated the car, and find him crying quietly in the shower. I wait in his room for him to return. I take him into my arms once more, lying him down on the bed. He cries off and on, halfway through the night. I say nothing, simply holding him.

Finally, just before he is drifting off, he apologizes.

"Sorry," he says, his voice rasping.

"Are you sure?" I ask, only because I can't know, can't hear his thoughts. It is still as frustrating as ever.

He chuckles roughly.

"This isn't regret," he says. "It's penance. Being with Josie when I still loved you had a price. I'm paying it. I'm not running from the prices of my actions anymore. It hasn't worked out well for me in the past."

He pulls me closer, his hand running up and under my shirt, his fingers brush over my skin in the most delicious and distracting way as he grasps tight to my middle. It is easy to let go of my desire and be there for him. My love.

"Thank you," he says, "for today. For helping me. I can't repay you."

I stroke his hair.

"I didn't do it so you would repay me," I say simply. "I did it because I choose to, because your happiness matter to me, and because I love you."

He takes a deep breath, "How did I get this lucky?"

As he drifts off, I think about the day, about all the joy having him in my life has brought me. It easily outweighs all the bad. Thinking of all that I have, all that I am grateful for, I wonder if I will ever see him as the lucky one. I know not what tomorrow will bring, but with Ben at my side, I am ready for anything.


	6. Chapter 6: Transformation (Benjamin)

Benjamin

The next month was rather odd, all things consider. I was getting plenty of practice leading a double life. There was my human persona, one who still did chores, worked at Newton's, had dinner now and again with mom, started preparing my room for long term vacancy, hanging out with friends one last time before they went off to school. The other persona, what I liked to think of as my secret self, my real self, was filled with unexpected wonders, surprises, and worry.

I was going to miss Angelo. I had coffee with him, and while Brenda tagged along, Angelo had enough social clout to make sure no one felt like the third wheel. He thanked me for my friendship, was glad things were going well for me, and wished me good luck at school. He told me while Brenda was in the bathroom that they had agreed to break up when they left for school. Neither felt like they were prepared for long distance and they didn't want to commit to something more, so they had agreed to go their own ways, and if they find their way back to one another in the future, then they would. I hugged him and wish him all the best, and we parted ways.

Jesse was... less enjoyable. Apparently, he and Mickie were on their end-of-honeymoon, off-again, on-again phase. He spent most of our time at a local burger joint talking about how much he loved or hated Mickie, talking himself into and out of taking her back with every third or fourth sentence. By the end, I said my goodbye hastily and left him sucking down a vanilla malt shake with two straws, though he only used one, tears silently streaming down, seemingly unaware that I was going, uncaring.

Mom was getting empty nest syndrome already. I would come home to find my clothes refolded in my drawers, so they were neater and occasionally heard her beating an unsteady retreat out of my room when I came home. She spoke to me as she usually did, but she hovered and tried to be helpful to the point of being less helpful than doing nothing.

My other life, my secret one, was strange. I spent my time at the Cullens', or in the woods nearby. Emanuel had put in a decidedly nice apartment onto the back of the garage, finishing with a speed and efficiency I wouldn't have believed, even knowing what I did about the ability and limits, or lack thereof, of vampires.

Josie and Emond moved in and were happy there. It wasn't exactly luxurious, but it was nicer than my house. It had a half kitchen and a full bath, a room for each, a computer, a small, by Cullen standards, entertainment center, a small living room, and a minivan. The van stayed in the garage, but it was there, car seat and all, should Josie need it.

Josie split her time between Emond and herself quite well. Loath as she was accepting what little help she was given, Edwina talked her through getting a GED online, as well as teaching Josie anything she wished to learn, which Josie refused. Instead, she spent any time she had to herself watching whatever she liked or in the Cullens' expansive garage, where she got along tolerably with Rory. They talked cars, something I didn't even pretend I could follow, and it sounded like the two had a couple of projects they wouldn't mind putting into practice. The rest of her time she spent with Emond.

Emond was constantly with someone, mostly two people, if not more. His mother, the Cullens and I rotated around, each taking charge of him at various times and for various reasons. He had dinner with Josie every night in their apartment, often with me and occasionally with me and Edwina. His other meals and snacks he usually had in the main house, supplied or made for him by whoever was looking after him at the time until he learned to do it himself. With so many adults who knew so many things around him, he always had questions, wanting to know everything about everything. One time I greeted my boy as I came in to look for Edwina, and he was smiling, sitting and talking with Katherine, having brought her a butterfly that he had caught. When I returned some minutes later with Edwina, they immediately sat me down and strapped a pressure cuff to my arm so they could listen to the various eddies my blood formed under pressure. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how they got from one topic to the other.

He was coming up fast for a child, and I didn't just mean the growing part. In the more than six weeks since his birth, he was now in the norm for a twenty-four-month-old, or so Katherine and Edwina tell me. But what really surprised me was his capacity for understanding. I walked in one day to find him reading a college level textbook on botany, and he began telling me all about underground fungi that acted as a water and nutrient support system, connecting plants of various species in a massive web, ensuring they all flourished. And if that wasn't enough, he called it "vegetation socialism". I was chatting with Josie outside upon my arrival one day, and as we entered the main house, we found him discussing the conductance of different types of metal with Emanuel. I had to ask him to explain it to me, and it still took him two tries before I got it, since he kept using electronics terms I had no reference to. One day, he ran up to me with a shirt in his hand. Turns out he made it himself, by hand, for me. I couldn't tell, the stitching was so even. I put it on and I swear, it fit better than any shirt I ever wore. Alice looked on, pleased.

At first, I was feeling rather out of my depths. I mean, not only was I a father, but I was a father to a super-intelligent creature that might appear older and be superior to me in so many ways in a few years. How could someone not feel intimidated and inadequate about that? But over time, I started to see that there was one thing he couldn't get from books and from the others he talked to; life experience.

As intelligent as he was, Emond's life was full of gaps. One day, he ran up to me in the backyard of the Cullens' house, holding a fish. He had no idea what it was. I explained it to him and when I told him his grandmother loved to fish, he was baffled and didn't understand. When I told him about the activity, he laughed, asking me why they didn't just take the fish from the water as he had done. I had to tell to him just how special he was, and that so many people were not as capable as he was. It took several hours and Edwina's help before I could get him to truly understand just how outside the norm he really was, aside from being the first and likely only one of his kind. He was rather quiet for the rest of the evening, and I was afraid that I had done him a disservice, informing him of what he really was. He started to seem distant at times, and despite the fact that he was undeniably loved by so many, he seemed, for a time, disconnected from those who loved him.

As for feeling disconnected from those around him, Emond hadn't been the only one. I hadn't really had any additional serious conversations about us with either Josie or Edwina. Mom was wondering when exactly I was leaving for school, and I had decided I couldn't wait on definitive plans any longer.

I had planned to ask Edwina if we could sit and talk on Saturday, but she beat me to the punch. She asked a few days before if we could finally have our picnic that Saturday since it was my first day off in three weeks. The idea of returning to the meadow made me realize that there were other plans I had already put off for too long.

I woke up beside her that Saturday slowly. It was early afternoon, and I could tell by the sun, or lack thereof, that it was pretty overcast. I slowly stretched, my hand brushing purposeful up the length of her, though I stayed clear of untrodden furrows. She grinned as my eyes found her lips, and I grinned as her lips found mine.

"You know," she said with a certain sexuality to her voice that was rather enticing, "you could actually touch me in a sexual manner. I might actually want you to."

I just smiled, considering with an exaggerated expression.

"Hmmm," I said sleepily. "I wonder..."

I briefly flipped down, switching my head and feet. Reaching over, I grabbed her ankle. She easily could have broken my grip, but she didn't move.

I gripped her calf, running my fingers up her leg slowly. She was wearing a floral print skirt, which fell to just below her knee. I slowed my progression even further, finally kissing the side of her knee. At that point, she was almost writhing on the bed, and I quit, somewhat in self-preservation.

She shifted to meet me, reverse herself as well, her face close to mine.

"Do you want me?" she asked, her eyes gentle, her face open and kind.

"What?" I asked, exasperated. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you want me?" she asked again. "Or, do you want to want me?"

I took a moment to reconsider, to take her question seriously.

"I'm not sure," I said, wanting to hide my face, to turn away.

She sat up, curling her legs under, forming a pillow. I turned, settling my head on them, my face turned away. She ran her hands through my hair.

"Tell me," she encouraged, her voice light.

"When I was with Josie," I said, "it was like an animal thing. It was lustful and uninhibited and sort of vulgar and raw. It... it was so different from how I feel about you. When I was with her, it was about pleasure and my body and while my heart was in it, it was a hollow echo of what I feel for you. When I'm with you, it's about happiness and my heart, the essence of who I am. I don't know how to consolidate the two. I don't know how to be this imperfect mortal, immorally wanton person beside all your glorious perfection-"

She laughed. It was like a dam broke, and suddenly, a cacophony of raucous giggles split the air with the force a slamming door. She dissolved into indelicate guffaws, falling back on my bed, rolling in mirth. Her hand found my face as I watched her in open-mouthed shock, stroking me in reassurance, about the only thing that was keeping me from going to lock myself in the bathroom.

"I love you," she said, as soon as she was about. "But you really are an idiot, Love."

I tried very hard not to pout.

"I'm not per-"

"Stop," I said, cutting her off in turn. "Just don't."

She composed herself and straightened.

"Did I offend you?" she asked.

"Yes!" I blurted.

She smiled, "Okay."

I sighed, "Stop that."

She closed her mouth, still smiling, and nodded her compliance. I tried rather unsuccessfully not to allow her smile to get to me.

"I'm serious," I said, smiling too. "Stop."

Her lips twitched frantically. She was trying, she really was. She touched my chest, and I caved.

"Listen," I said, laughing quietly in turn, trying to remain serious. "Really."

She still smiled. She took my hands and hers, holding them to her chest, looking into my eyes, and listened.

"You are a goddess," I said. "You're my goddess. You're beautiful and pure and kind and lovely and everything I could ask for of the woman I love, and then some. Everything we have, it's perfect to me. I couldn't ask for more. Sex is... complicated. It's messy and wild and visceral and... and it ties into a part of myself I've never been comfortable with. I tolerated it when I was Josie because it felt worth it. Being that raw, that naked, that honest was easy, with her. I got to have sex, and, honestly, I just didn't care, not the way I do with you. I'm scared, unlike any fear I've ever felt. Not being a dad, not risking my life to be with you, not my numerous near death experiences, none of those compare to the fear I feel at being with you... and screwing it up."

She turned and shifted, coming to sit in my lap, her back against my chest. She was hard and dense and it wasn't entirely comfortable, but she pulled my arms around her and I quit caring as soon as I nuzzled my face into her hair and held her close.

"I can't take your fear away," she said. "I can't make this any easier for you. It is a choice, one that you have to make. And I wouldn't make it easier for you, even if I could. You don't trust when it's easy. That's worth nothing. Trusting when it's hard, having faith then, that is real. It's what life and love are all about."

I kissed the side of her neck, and she made pleasant, almost purring sounds, but I got up and grabbed my clothes. Going to the bathroom, I washed up and dressed, grabbing the ring from it's hiding spot. When I returned, my bed was made and she was waiting beside the stairs for me. We went down and, as before, she packed a lunch as I ate breakfast.

This time, we had an actual picnic basket. Just before we began to head out the door, I walked to the hall closet and took out a suitable blanket. She gave me a raised eyebrow look and I said, "Just in case."

She smiled as we walked out. I climbed on her back and she bore my weight as I held the basket before her. At last, we came to the meadow.

She was polite enough to let me climb down and set the basket down before she jumped me. We were rolling in the grass for several undeniably glorious minutes before I found myself slightly winded.

"Breather," I gasped, and to my utter surprise, I realized my hand was curved intently around her... well, her butt. From the expression on her face, she had very much noticed and was very pleased, which naturally embarrassed me and I moved my hand and she laughed.

"We will go slow," she said as we shifted to something a tad more comfortable, "as slow as you like."

At the moment, I didn't want to go slow. I wanted to dive in and shred clothing and whip her into a frenzy and take her, blanket be damned! Slow seemed like the stupidest idea in the history of forever, but it was clear to me, after a particularly long and nearly catastrophic moment, that my fear was doing the talking and what I really needed was to calm down and talk about something else.

I sat up and took her hand, "Let's talk some first."

"Okay," she said, right at ease as she joined me in sitting. "What should we talk about?"

I considered, "We need to decide when we are leaving for Dartmouth."

Her expression slackened.

"What?" I asked.

"That is an involved conversation," she said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning more towards her on the grass.

"I mean," she said, looking at me, her expression closed, "that I am not sure how you will react and it makes me a little nervous."

I smiled after a moment and squeezed her stony hand, "Please. Begin. We will tread this treacherous path together."

She grinned a moment, then said, rather lightly, "I haven't properly prepared you for becoming a vampire."

This was the last thing I thought she would have brought up. Okay, maybe not the last thing, but I wouldn't have even considered this a topic of discussion.

"Really?" I asked, actually interested by such a statement, knowing that some solid honesty was coming my way. I loved it when Edwina was honest with me. Every time, I felt as though I was knowing her better.

"How so?" I asked.

She stood, pacing a bit.

"As you know," she said, "being a vampire means desiring blood."

"You're kidding me!" I said, with more than my usual level of sarcasm.

She suppressed a laugh, "I'm serious, Benjamin. The fact of the matter is, being around humans is hard. Really hard. You might not understand just how much we have to help Jasper, protect him from himself. And he is not a young vampire; he is the second oldest in our family, older even than I am. When you are young, you will be impulsive, and your motivations will be driven by the desire for blood. It will be like suddenly being heavily addicted to killing people, and without the experience and wisdom needed, you are going to have a really hard time being close to humans without being in pain or killing them or both."

I thought about that, "So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying," she said, "when you become a vampire, you are likely going to have to give up on your old life entirely. Not because you will be so entirely changed, but because you might hurt or kill someone that you love simply because of what you will be."

I frowned.

"I won't be like that," I said.

She shook her head, "We are all like that. All of us. It was years before I was able to be around humans at all. Rory was less restrained, but he didn't drink from those he killed. Even so, Emanuel, Emily, Jasper, even myself, we have all killed humans. I do not want that experience for you, and until you can be sure that you will not hurt someone, we should not be near humans at all."

I was starting to understand what she meant. It didn't take long for me to put the pieces together.

"So," I said, forming the logic up in my head, "you are saying that I have a choice; I can go to Dartmouth or become a vampire, but not both?"

She shrugged, "You wouldn't be able to attend Dartmouth as a vampire unless you took only night classes. Still, it would be a serious risk, one I do not know if you would be capable of handling without causing innocent death."

I sighed, "Okay, okay. I see what you are saying. So, I need to make a decision."

"You can stay here and become a vampire," she said, "or we can go to Dartmouth, together."

I nodded.

"Or we can just stay here," she said, "or you can become a vampire and we can go somewhere remote and feast on local predators until you are capable of obtaining from human blood. It is up to-"

She looked up, suddenly. I turned, and there was Emond, standing at the edge of the meadow.

"Hey, bud," I said loudly, standing, forgetting for a moment that he could hear me whisper. "What's going on?"

"No!" he said, his voice high. "I don't want you to leave!"

"Emond," said Edwina, looking confused. "How...? No, child, it isn't like that."

"No!" he said, his face crinkling. "You said it! You said go somewhere remote, or to Dartmouth! I heard you! I don't want you to leave! I don't want to be left behind!"

"Buddy," I said, "we having decided anything."

He shook his head, "No! I don't want it! I don't!"

Edwina moved towards him. Well, more like she was suddenly closer to him, moving with easy grace and vampire speed. She reached out, trying to comfort him.

"No!" he said, pushing her hands aside.

The reaction was instantaneous. Edwina collapsed.

It made no sense. I stood there, looking at her, trying to understand what had just happened. It was impossible. I had never seen her fall, not ever. I had just enough time to see my son, see the sudden, shockingly intense fear on Emond's face, before he turned and ran into the trees.

And, before I could do anything, move closer to her, speak, think, anything, she did something else I had never heard her do. Edwina screamed.

Her voice tore out of her, louder than I would have thought possible, painfully loud, a ringing note so pervasive, I could feel it in my bones, hear it through my jaw. It shook loose leafs from the trees and vibrated my skin. I had to back away to keep to protect myself, and it was one of the hardest things I had ever done.

She screamed, like she was being torn apart, like she was dying. And then, she stopped and was still.


	7. Chapter 7A: Mortality (Edwina)

Edwina

I scream. And scream. The pain is all. Everything. I have not experienced anything like this, not since becoming what I am. But it is so much more, so much denser, so concentrated. I cannot understand why I am not dead. I want to be gone. I would willingly allow my life's end for this hurt to be over. The idea of leaving Ben feels almost worth it, if only I can escape the pain.

And then, it ended.

I... I felt so far away. I was lying on the hard ground, the world around me muffled, as though coming to me from down a long tube. Everything was muffled, a faint rushing drowning out the finer sounds, everything running together, indistinguishable, busy and slipping away. I felt twitchy, as though every little motion my body made was amplified, as though my skin was bouncing and shifting most peculiarly. I couldn't make sense of anything, couldn't understand what was happening.

And then, I heard the one thing that could keep and hold my attention.

"Edwina? Oh god, Edwina? Can you hear me?"

Ben. My love. I would come back from the dead for that voice.

I turned slowly towards him, feeling... wrong. My body felt like it was resisting my motions, trying to keep me from moving. It felt shaky and unsure, but it still obeyed my commands.

I found him. He stood over me, but there was something wrong. The light was dull, the face I knew better than my own seemed fragmented in my perception, as though I could only see bits of it at a time. What was more, it wasn't unnatural to me. It was as though I had always seen this way, as though nothing had changed.

"You have green eyes," said Ben.

The significance of that statement took me quite a long time to grasp. It took me even longer to realize that it was slowed, that I was slowed. My mind was imprecise, easily sidetrack, flickering, overwhelmed by what all that I saw, heard, smelled, tasted, and felt.

There was a pounding, a rushing feeling, that wanted me up, that wanted me panicking, that was preparing me to flee, to hide, to fight. I gasped, breath quavering, and then I did it again, and again. My thready, rasping breath came again and again, too quick, too shallow. I couldn't gain satisfaction, my fear renewed, redoubling.

"Breathe," said Ben. "Breathe."

His voice was gentle, and I latched on to that. On to him. His arm slid down and around me, pulling me straighter, holding me, supporting me in a way that felt more than merely physical.

"Here," he said, his hand took mine, pressing it to his chest. He was warm, but it wasn't that seeping heat I had known before. He was dense and firm under my hand, his chest rising and falling with a steady, sure pace.

I took air in and out, slowing to his pace, the grey around the edges of my sight receding. The aches and discomfort in my body went with it, all the myriad of half-remembered sensations retreating to a backward hum, once I had recognized and recounted them each in turn. I slowly relaxed, held in Ben's one arm, his other holding my hand to him. I found his eyes again, his expression... startled? Surprised? Intent, and...? I wasn't sure. I couldn't quite read him as I once did.

All of it, every bit of it, built within me. The strumming I felt throughout me, originating from my chest, the ache easier by breath, the cool air upon my skin, the prickly bite of the dried grass, the trembling in my body, the slowed and gauzy feel of my thoughts, the haze on everything I saw, heard, and felt, all of it, everything, culminated in one, impossible, undeniable truth.

"I'm alive," I said, my voice rough and quavery in my own ears, breaking as a wave, slamming me with fear and realization.

"I'm alive!" I cried, unable to stay still, wanting to rise again, to run. I pulled my legs under me, trying to rise.

"Whoa," said Ben, "easy. Easy!"

He caught me as I over corrected, nearly falling. His arms were sure and kept me from over correcting the over correction. So focused was I, it took me a moment to be aware of where exactly I was.

My hands were upon Ben, my uneven footing keeping me pressed to him. His arms were around the small of my back. His warmth was a nice contrast to the cool air, strangely comforting. He felt so firm against me, no longer some fragile thing I must work to keep from breaking. And as I stood there, breathing gently, I realized the single most profound difference that I had yet encountered.

I no longer wished to kill him. He was there, against me, his very human, less distinguished scent drawing into me, and as pleasant and altogether distracting as it might have been, it did not inspire his untimely death.

Something shifted. I was suddenly focused on him, in a singular, familiar way, the predator I was entirely absent. All that remained was the woman, focused on the man. Her man. My Benjamin. I knew this feeling, this desire of wanted him with every facet of my being, but this was also so completely different. I felt the flush of blood in me, the hammering of my heart, my heart!, it's pounding so marked if only because of its long absence. My breathing became rougher, and I felt myself wanting to touch his skin, wanting to know his body felt to this body, wanting to push limits and boundaries.

"You're beautiful," he said.

My gaze found his eyes again, no longer distracted by my desires. His look was gentle, his eyes tracing my face. He brought up a hand, carefully fitting it to my cheek.

"You're warm," he said, astonished.

My skin gave, dimpling and fitting to his touch.

"And soft," he said, the word drawn and making me feel as though I was trembling, my knees weak.

"I..." I said. But his thumb brushed my lips, pliant and deforming under his hand, sensation sparking through me.

A look crossed his face, one I knew well. He got it every time he was going to kiss me.

I shivered against him, feeling my breath catch and my heart start to race in a new and wholly unknown way, one I could never remember having in my human life. His hands found my hips, and he gripped me firmly, holding me securely to him. It sparked a heat in me, something just as foreign to me as my heartbeat.

"Kiss me," I said, unable to wait anymore, wanting to rightly and truly jump him.

He needed no further invitation. Stepping in, his lips found mine, soft yet resilient, pushing and pulling in a way that was in some ways the same, in some ways less, but in other ways so, so much more. I didn't want to hold back, to be reserved, but I didn't want to hurt him.

In a transcendent moment, I realized that I couldn't. I was mortal. I was human! It would take effort to cause more than just discomfort. It would take purpose and know-how. I was now just a fragile as he was, but, what was more, he was not just as resilient as I was.

I leaped into his arms, wrapping my legs about him, clinging to him, a sound escaped me of poignant desire mixed with overwhelmed emotions. He caught me, and actually held me, easily. This only served to spike my desire, and clutched at his clothing, pulling at it, my hands no long able to simply shred the cloth from his body. He groaned, a guttural sound of frustration and lust. It pushed me towards the tipping point, words like control and restraint losing all meaning.

He started walking, and I was confused until I felt him sort of jerk and heard the clatter of the picnic basket. Kneeling, still holding me, one of his hands and then the other worked behind me, and he laid me down upon the blanket, gently.

"Slow me down," he whispered.

I jarred me, slowed me in turn.

"What?" I asked in my rough, mortal voice.

"It's too..." he said, his voice dropping away.

He drew back, looking at me, his face intent but also compassionate. He saw me and I realized just how caught up I had been in sensation, the beating of my heart, the blood in my veins, the renewed vitality that was my own. I was here, with him, and all the desire between us had led me to forget who he was and who I was. He wanted to savor me, this moment of us together, and even now, when I gladly would have let myself make love to him without a backward glance, he wanted me here, not lost to pleasure. He wanted me, not just my body. He wanted me to experience this with him. He cared about me, genuinely and beyond the care I showed for myself, beyond what I expected anyone would every show me. He, truly, deeply, loved me.

A look of wonder came onto his face. I couldn't understand, until he brushed my face, wiping away my tears.

"I love you," I gasped. His arms came about me, holding me to him, and I could feel his heart, feel it against my own, the double beat that was us, together.

"I love you," I cried, tears falling in earnest.

He held me, his arms strong, his hands gently. It was many minutes before I noticed that he was crying too. I pulled back, looking into his face. Tears were in his eyes, and mine two. I smiled, touching his face, as he stroked mine.

"I love you," I said again, my heart starting to hammer again, this time in unrepentant joy! Enthusiasm I had never known bubbled up in me, and I understood the squealing, discombobulating, effusive wordless delight I had felt in the minds of teenage girls, girls like me now. It was everything, being with him, having him to hand. It was so strong, so vibrant in me, it was beyond containment, restraint, and concern. He was all, my entire world, beyond everything I could know and conceive, the best and great of all men, and he loved me too. I'd be crying, if I wasn't already, so fierce was my fierce joy.

"Make love to me," I said.

He didn't say a word, though there was some rather exuberant nodding.

Our first time was everything I wanted it to be. We revealed ourselves carefully, slowly, marking new expanses of skin with little kisses. He playfully nibbled my neck, and I couldn't but laugh and swat him. And he did touch me, as I so desperately wanted, as he did in his room, that first day, the day he named me his girlfriend, intently, his attention on me, letting me feel everything, confident, and intent and present, letting go doubt and holding nothing back. When I drifted too far, riding waves of sensation, he whispered to me, imploring me to return to him, which I did with heartfelt sighs at his thoughtful concern. I knew him now, all of him, but I didn't know everything. This mind was slower, weaker, everything fading. It would take many trials, many returns to this activity, for me to know him as I wanted. And that was just fine with me.

And he was right; it was animalistic. We let go, being in the moment, escaping the confines of our minds, being together, all heart and body and selves. And when I brought him to his release, he dropped to me, heavily, his head to rest upon my breast. As uncomfortable though it was, in a human body and in under the weight of him, there wasn't a thing I would have changed about that moment, not a single thing in the whole world.

Finally, we rolled, and I was able to lay upon his chest, him using his bunched clothing as a pillow, me unafraid of hurting him or that he might be uncomfortable with my coldness or hardness. And to my amazement, my utter satisfaction, I began to drift, right up until his hand traced down my spine, after which I was quite certain I might jump him again.

"I love you," he said.

I made a pleased yet exasperated sound and turned, lightly biting his chest.

"Ow," he laughed, "no biting!"

"I was about to fulfill one of my deepest and most desperate fantasies until someone had to go and start touching me..." I chided him.

"What fantasy?" he asked, interest warring with confusion.

"Falling asleep beside the man I love," I said.

He just looked at me.

"What?" I asked. Finally, he nodded.

"Edwina Elizabeth Cullen," he said, his voice deeper somehow, making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck and my eyes widen.

"Whether mortal or immortal, you are the most beautiful creature in my known universe," he said. "And that fact holds not a candle to the wonder I find in the contents of your character, the depths of your heart, and the goodness of who you are. I want to spend the rest of my existence with you, in whatever form that should take. I love you beyond measure and reason and description, and if there are two things in this world I am entirely sure of, it is how I feel about you, and that you feel the same."

I couldn't breathe. I didn't know why, but I sincerely couldn't figure out how to inhale.

He turned fully towards me, starting to withdraw from me, starting to get up. Almost instinctively, I clutched at him, and he held me to him, setting me on my feet, his hands upon my waist, though he stood kneeling before me. I didn't know how or why, but for some reason, the dream of falling asleep beside him seemed more likely than this moment, one so outside the realm of what I considered feasible that I had never really thought to consider it; but when he reached into his discarded pants' pocket and brought forth the small white box, I finally understand his posture, his words, and couldn't understand why, why I hadn't thought this was possible. And, as with every time before it, I couldn't but relish the inexplicable happiness that was Ben, choosing me, again.

"Will you marry me?" he asked.

He opened the box.

My mother's ring. As though this day could be any more impossible.

Tears coursed down my face. I couldn't even get the word out, my hand pressed over my mouth, my vision blurring. I nodded.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, and I somehow laughed that he sounded unsure.

I nodded again, "Yes. I will marry you."

I dove into his arms, and there was an issue with getting the ring on my finger, mostly because I was too excited to hold still and kept kissing him and making much of him. Finally, he held me down, which I delighted in on various levels, and finally, it slipped onto my finger.

Finally, we came back to rest again, me so completely and utterly spent by our day's activities. This time, when he touched my back gently, it settled me, much as I always imagined doing for him before when it was him doing the sleeping. But, just before going, I moaned.

"I understand it now," I said. "That first day, our first day here, and that night; I don't want it to end."

He chuckled and kissed my hair, bringing the blanket to half settle upon us, and I began melting back into myself again.

"I'll be here when you wake up," he said. "Sleep, my soon-to-be wife."

And I did.


	8. Chapter 7B: Mortality (Benjamin)

It was the most frighten minutes of my life. She fell. She actually fell. I had never considered the possibility that Edwina would die. I didn't, not until I learned that she might commit suicide; I couldn't, not when I flew to Italy; and I hadn't, not since she had returned with me. Now, she was lying in the grass, still, and motionless, and I couldn't... anything. What could I ever... without her? There was no sense to this world without her in it.

But then, she changed. It was like watching someone blush, only instead of the red filling her face from the veins out, the white of her skin seemed to leech backward, being pulled into the blood vessels of her face, slowly. In their place, was skin, real skin, pink and soft and fair and human. He hair went a bit limper, a bit wilder, the shine dampening. Her body seemed to relax, to sag, to loosen, to shift into a less comfortable looking position. And while all this happened, there was a shimmer in the air about her, a familiar sheen that reminded me of the shifts Josie and the pack went through.

She lay up on the ground, still and seemingly unconscious, but she was... what had happened?

"Edwina?" I all but screamed, leaning over her. "Oh god, Edwina? Can you hear me?"

She moved, and I felt the tears begin to prick at my eyes in sheer relief. She turned towards me, facing me, and opened her eyes.

The eyes that looked back at me were not hers, and yet, somehow, in a way that I couldn't understand but my brain knew, like instinct, like gravity, had never been more hers than ever I had seen them.

They were edged in deepest jade, dramatically turning to the color of vibrant spring leaves before falling to a pale mint, barely speaking of the gold I was so used to seeing there, just rimming the pupil.

"You have green eyes," my mouth spoke, without my volition.

Those eyes began to widen, and she began to breath fast and fast, the rush of air becoming a shuttering series of gasps, of obvious distress. My shock turned to action as she began to hyperventilate.

"Breathe," I said gently, taking her to me and propping her up so that she wasn't so hunched. "Breathe. Here."

I found her hand, losing myself for an instant when I realized it was warm. She was warm! She was soft and articulated under my touch, and I took that hand and placed it onto me so that she could feel my breathing. I breathed slow and deliberately, letting her feel it. Slowly, the fear began to drain from her, and she began to relax under me.

She found my face again and looked at me. I had never seen her like this. He emotions had always been so controlled, so filtered, even more so than I think I ever knew. But now, here, she showed everything upon her face. It had been messy with fear and distress, and now, though it was clear of torment, her face was open and vulnerable in a way I had never seen Edwina look before. I had never had a need to comfort her, to hold her up as I was now, to benefit her by my strength or by my presence. She had always seemed so capable, so entirely self-sufficient, the idea of her being dependent on anyone for anything seemed laughable to me.

And yet, here in my arms, she was vulnerable. She needed the support. She had been overwhelmed, and rightly so, but I had been here. This was something I had never experienced with her. It was confusing and twisted, so different and backwards that I couldn't make sense of it. Was it a good thing that she didn't seem to depend on me? Was it a good thing that she depended on me now? How was I going to make sense of any of this? What did this mean?

"I'm alive," she said softly. Her voice was just recognizable as hers. There was a just noticeable tremor, a roughness to it, though I couldn't tell if I noticed it by its usual absence or if she was just really freaked out.

"I'm alive!" she said loudly, starting to panic, trying to get to her feet.

"Whoa," I cautioned, "easy. Easy!"

She staggered and I took her elbows, which began to over balance her, and I had to hold her more surely, wrapping my arms about her. Her hands came to rest on my chest, and she looked up from under her slightly darker red-gold brows, almost shy, uncertain until she seemed to become aware of just how close we were, which naturally mean I noticed it too. She was warm and breathing and there were tiny little motions to her, a sort of constant correction to her posture that had never been there before, almost like she was slowly vibrating with life. I could tell by her breathing, though I wasn't sure how because I didn't exactly have much practice with reading it, that she was nervous and sort of... excited. I took the moment to drink her in, to see her as I never thought I would ever see her, to know her the way I never thought I ever could. As I gazed, I began noting things that seemed both utterly trivial and totally wondrous.

I couldn't be sure, but she might have been a little shorter, but it was impossible to tell if the change was real or just different posture. Her face wasn't symmetrical, one eye just barely noticeably larger than the other. She had a thin sprinkling of freckles about her cheeks, and her jawline was fuller, rounder. Her proportions in my arms seemed to have shifted a bit, more slender in some places and with extra curve in others. Her skin bunched and sagged in a wholly different way, and her body gave under me pressed against her in a way that poked something in my animal brain that made me notice it all the more and had me remembering one the marked difference between her and Josie that I tried not to let myself consider.

But finally, I found myself staring at her face. Before, it had been undeniably beautiful, but it had been a rather stark beauty. It wasn't just that it was even, balanced, symmetrical, and flawless; there had been a certain void that I hadn't really noticed. Her face expressed to me what she wanted, unless she was otherwise distracted, and even then, what came through still felt somewhat controlled. Now, her face was so new to me, so different. Aside from the little differences that seemed to beg for my attention, her expression was so raw, so uninhibited. Everything she felt and experienced seemed to cross her face, showing it to me, letting me share in it. It showed me just how much I had been missing, just how much was really going on within her. It was one thing to trust her and take her fear and concern as fact, but it was another to actually see it, to feel it with her, and understand it. It was as overwhelming for me as it was for her.

"You're beautiful," I said. It was the only words that came to mind.

She looked into my eyes and I reached up, touching her face. The velvety contours of her skin were wondrous under my hand.

"You're warm," I said, emotion burbling in my voice, and my voice seemed to drop in pitch and volume as I added, "and soft."

She looked almost scared but more nervous than anything.

"I..." she tried to say, but her lips bumped almost clumsily into my thumb. They were unbelievably supple against my finger, and I had to keep touching them. It was a necessity I couldn't deny myself.

She trembled under me, against me, her breathing becoming almost labored. She knew what was coming, just as surely as I knew it. Her lips needed to be experienced, to be felt, upon mine. I wanted to experience her, this mortal girl what was also the immortal goddess I loved. I found her waist, her hips with my hands, feeling them, understanding them, thrilling at just how fragile they felt. There was a new layer of trust here, one that had never been between us, between me and any girl I had shared myself with as such. I realized that I could hurt her, really and truly, if I was not careful, or if I was a lesser person. It was so obvious, so transparent, it almost sickened me. How could I be holding her, wanting her, and be thinking about the mere possibility of hurting her? My grip became more sure, protective, feeling for her in a way that I never had yet. It scared me. Would I be enough to protect her?

"Kiss me," she whispered, breathily, her voice sounding almost broken.

It was all I needed to hear. I closed with her, my lips finding hers as she tilted up to meet me, pressing to me, insistent yet careful. At first, she didn't seem to want to move too much, but within a few moments, her reactions were dramatic and almost rough. She leaped onto me, clutching to me, a little moan of something that could have been relief or ecstasy escaped her, her legs wrapping about me. She was almost light as I held her, and suddenly her moving against me, tight and pressing and warm and soft and hands pulling at clothes and hot breath and quivering selves... it became too much.

I groaned, unable to do nothing anymore. I had a singular purpose; blanket. I held her, and through kicking and a spare hand here and there, I managed to get the blanket mostly laid out and settled her upon it.

Kissing her, touching her, even through clothes and just the press of my body against hers, it was all too much. I wanted her, completely, and I wasn't sure just how much I could still control my desires. She was warm and soft and felt so human, and it made me want her all the more. I knew that she would have me, but, I didn't want it like this. The desire and the rush, everything that I had had with Josie. I wanted more. I didn't trust myself even to slow down enough to remember that. I needed help. I needed her.

"Slow me down," I said softly to her, gently, not wanting to disturb her.

"What?" she asked, her voice rough, almost hurt sounding.

I didn't want to scare her or hurt her. I pulled back and looked into her face. Just looking at her was enough. She was herself, even if she was mortal, and no change upon that countenance could ever convince me she wasn't the most beautiful thing in my world. She looked at me and I looked right back at her, and smiled, letting all I felt show on my face, as I could see everything in hers.

To my initial horror, tears welled in her eyes, but seeing her face, I could see that she wasn't afraid or sad. There was an awe to her, a deep welling of emotion that seemed too vast for her to feel it and make sense of it. I knew exactly what she was feeling.

"I love you," she said, sounding as breathless as I felt. I pulled her to me, not wanting her lips on mine or anything but to feel her close, pressed to me, ourselves together as one.

"I love you," she said again, undeniably crying now, and the twist that spun in me was enough to cause my tears to ebb over. Quiet sobs raked through me, and I tried to silence them, not for fear or shame, but because I wanted her to be concerned only with herself, to feel this feeling, experiencing this experience. I cared about her too much in that moment to ask of her anything but to live this moment for her alone.

At length, she began to lean back, and I let her pull from me. She looked into my face and reach out to touch me, as I did her, her tears a wonder to me.

"I love you," she said, and this time, the elation seemed to outweigh her tears. Her smile was a thing that made me feel weak, so powerful was its effect on me. Had she asked, I would have done anything for her in that moment. Anything at all.

"Make love to me," she said.

Of all the things she could have asked of me, of all the things that I would have gladly done with her, none that she could have stated could have pleased me more. I nodded frantically, unable to find my voice, mostly because I was pretty sure I was incapable of coherent speech.

There were no words for what followed, none that would convey the true experience of it. I would need new words, a better mind. There isn't enough time for me to get it right, to perfectly convey what it meant to me. I finally understood why I wanted immortality; how could I ever hope to fully understand this, to understand being beside her, to be with her, for us to be together, the depths and breath of my love for her without the precise vampire mind and an eternity of experiencing it?

We let go of everything; our thoughts, our lives, everything wasn't us in that moment and were left with only our bodies, our pleasure, our joy, and the imperfect perfection that was us, that was we. We were fearless and in love and it was so beyond anything I could have imagined it being.

Finally, we were spent, lying together, her upon my chest, as I had rested upon hers moments before. It was the best moment of my life, only one thing could make it better.

"I love you," I said, stroking her back, meaning it more than I ever had.

She made a strange sort of rumbling sounds, sort of half moan and half protest. I felt her move and felt her lips, then her teeth against me. They were surprisingly sharp.

"Ow, no biting!" I said, laughing.

She sighed, "I was about to fulfill one of my deepest and most desperate fantasies until someone had to go and start touching me..."

"What fantasy?" I asked, feeling a little hurt for some reason. What could be better than what we had just done?

"Falling asleep beside the man I love," she said.

She looked up at me, her hair mussed, her face crinkled in love and happiness and just plain crinkled. Every time I thought that I would be content with what I had, forever, I got more. This was it, the moment.

Her face shifted, as though she sensed my decision but didn't understand what it meant.

"What?" she asked. I pulled taut my bootstraps.

"Edwina Elizabeth Cullen," I said, and I could see her almost swell at my tone, feeling the resonance of my words but not understand why they were so powerful, not yet.

"Whether mortal or immortal, you are the most beautiful creature in my known universe," I went on, feeling ever word, truth spilling from me like it never had before. "And that fact holds not a candle to the wonder I find in the contents of your character, the depths of your heart, and the goodness of who you are. I want to spend the rest of my existence with you, in whatever form that should take. I love you beyond measure and reason and description, and if there are two things in this world I am entirely sure of, it is how I feel about you, and that you feel the same."

She was nearly as still as she could be when she was a vampire. She nearly toppled as I begin to move, but I held as she clung to me, lifting her as I stood. I set her upon her feet, naked and radiant before me. Taking her hand in mine, I knelt, and her eyes went wide as I did, true surprise in them. I dropped one hand to my pant's pocket, finding what I sought. I pulled out the box and held it out to her.

"Will you marry me?" I asked, opening it.

She looked at it, and tears immediately filled her eyes, spilling down her face. Her free hand found her mouth, and she sniffled as her head shook slowly, nodding then shaking again.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, not knowing what that even meant.

She laughed and nodded again, her emotions finally settling on happy tears.

"Yes," she said, her voice so sure. "I will marry you."

She flung herself upon me and we practically wrestled, trying to get the ring on her finger and kiss with abandon, both desires so ardent for each of us that they were mutually exclusive and we often tried to one while the other the other. Finally, the ring slid onto her finger.

We relaxed, watching her with deep amusement as she worked her way through a few of the sandwiches, her surprise and satisfaction at food so endearing. At last, she curled against me, her eyelids heavy. I stroked her back again, this time, her moan was more dismay than anything.

"I understand you now," she said blearily. "That first day, our first day here, and that night; I don't want it to end."

I smiled and laughed quietly.

"I'll be here when you wake up," he said. "Sleep, my soon to be wife."

She fell asleep in my arms. For the first time, I totally understood you she watched me sleep. She was relaxed and peaceful. It was almost impossible to be more vulnerable and it was gratifying to be able to see her like that, to know she wanted and trusted me to see her like that. And she snored! She actually snored. It was hard not to laugh at how adorable it was.

Time passed, and finally, she roused. Looking around, she blinked, looking surprised and a little scared.

"It was real?" she asked, still slightly addled with sleep. "Really real?"

My arms encircled her, curving around bits of her I hadn't dared lay hands on before. Her eyes got rather wide, and then her expression shifted, back to something almost sultry. Heat plumed through me.

"I could get used to that," she said, her hands running up my arms.

I thought about it; mortality. We could have a lifetime of this. Walking up beside one another, going to school together, graduating, again, then marriage and careers, children, ours and human, aging, children leaving for school, then leaving the house, maybe grandchildren, retirement. Life and love and everything. A death.

"Do you want to go back?" I asked, my arms still around her.

"At some point, we must," she said slyly, "but first..."

Her lips found my neck while her hand slide somewhere that wasn't conducive to continued conversation.

"No," I laughed, not wanting to get going. Just yet.

"No?" she asked, pouting alluringly.

"I mean, no, that's not what I mean," I said. I went to kiss her but got caught up myself. After several delicious moments, she finally broke the kiss.

"What did you mean?" she asked, as though she couldn't stand the curiosity any longer.

I laughed, but then became somber.

"Do you want to go back," I asked, "to being a vampire?"

She looked at me, then her expression became thoughtful.

"I don't know," she said. "It's so hard to consider anything with this mind. I can only think of so many things at once!"

As she spoke, she shifted and gave me an unobstructed view down the front of her.

"For example," I said, scooting downward, leveling my mouth to her chest, leaving a trail of kisses as I went.

"Ack!" she giggled, and I couldn't tell if her hands were restraining or guiding.

"I'm serious," I said after working my way back up and kissing her mouth again. "Do you want to go back?"

She looked at me, earnestly, and there was no attempt on her part to hide her torn expression.

"What you want?" she asked.

"You," I said instantly, taking the hand that bore the ring, her ring, our ring, kissing the back of it. "You, forever."

Her face sort of melted, and she let out a low, nearly inaudible squeal as she pulled my face to hers, kissing me painfully hard. I let her.

"No measure of time with you will be long enough," she said.

"So," I said. "What will it be?"

"You didn't answer me," she pointed out, looking shy. I couldn't stand it! She was just so... darned human!

"I want you," I said. "I don't care how. If you want to go back to being a vampire, I would gladly follow you, when it is time for me to do so. If you want to stay human, I will be human with you, living my life beside you."

She stared at me, a heartrending ache on her face, "I couldn't stand the idea of there being an end to us, no matter how much joy it might bring us. I love being a human with you."

"But," I added, feeling one coming.

"But," she said, "I don't think I could give it up. I can feel my memory starting to go already. I don't have access to it the way I had, and what little is left is starting to fade. I wouldn't want to lose a single thing, not my past, not my present, not my future, none of it. I want to be with you, experiencing everything to its fullest, and recall it all, forever. And I want that for you too."

I smiled, kissing her forehead, "So, you aren't against me becoming a vampire anymore?"

She smiled, "No more so than me becoming a vampire."

I grinned wider and decided to ask if she thought we should be transformed before or after the wedding, which, naturally, tempted the fates.

There was a rush, and a high pitched squeal of immortal delight. Edwina was lifted spinning in Alice's arms, and I was left trying to scramble for pants since the blanket went with her.

Edwina's enthusiasm was not nearly that of Alice's, but the girlish delight of the two was positively ultrasonic.

"Let me see, let me see!" trilled Alice so quickly it sounded like a single word rather than six.

Edwina beamed and held out her hand, "Like you haven't already seen it."

Nonetheless, Alice stilled oohed and awed. Then, almost violently, she took Edwina's hand, her face imploring.

"Please," she outright begged, "please, please, please, please, please. Please. Please let me do your wedding."

"Oh, Alice!" I moaned.

"Shut up, no one's talking to you," she said daintily.

Edwina's face became reserved, impassive, nearly implacable. Alice looked as though she might combust.

When Edwina's grin finally broke though, Alice nearly jackhammered in place.

"Yay!" she enthused, her voice caroming about the open space. "Now, quick and get dressed! We have to get back! There's so much to do and I'm not sure of there will be time for everything. Here!"

There was a rustle, and Edwina was gone, along with all her clothes. By the time I was half into my shirt, I felt tiny hands grab me under my armpits and I was soon whisked away at nearly uncomfortable speeds. At last, we came to a stop in the Cullens' backyard. Edwina was leaning with one hand against a tree, looking slightly nauseated.

I laughed, "Whoa there."

I made it just in time for her not to topple sideways into the underbrush.

"Easy," I said, seeing how pale she was. "Take it slow."

Then, Katherine was there. Her eyes were wide, her hand over her mouth, her eyes sad and surprised.

"It really is true," she whispered.

Edwina looked scared all over again, unsure how her mother would respond to her sudden humanity. I stepped back, letting Katherine take up her daughter as I knew she would, holding her to her, rocking her gently. Emanuel appeared a moment later, and the two held their little girl, though it wasn't long before Emanuel grabbed my arm and dragged me in too.

"We didn't know," said Katherine. "Alice said you just vanished, like when the wolves showed up, but we just figured the Emond had found you since he was off on his own. But when you were back, Alice said you were... human. Josie left and Alice said that everything was alright and that we should give you some... time."

Edwina's face became rather red and Emanuel laughed, hugging her sideways.

"Josie went after Emond?" I asked.

"I don't know," said Katherine. "She didn't specify."

"He..." said Edwina. "He caused this. I wouldn't exactly say he did it, purposefully, but... he has the ability."

Katherine looked astonished, "He can reverse the change?"

"Yes," she said. "It is strange, sort of reversed. It is as though he doesn't just change himself; he can cause changes in others. Maybe it has something to do with his parentage, the way he walks in both worlds. Like certain genes that are kept in check in a single species that are unblocked when mixed with another."

I vaguely remember hearing something about what she was saying in Biology. A liger, a mixed breed lion and tiger, was the largest big cat alive today because their growth hormone was less inhibited. They grew so large, they couldn't live in the wild because they were unable to run or hunt.

"We will have to be very careful with this information," said Katherine.

"Why?" I asked, feeling suddenly defensive, being drawn back to the here and now.

"With very rare except," said Emanuel, "any vampire who hears of this ability will see it as an unacceptable threat. Wars have been started over less serious circumstances."

I felt suddenly very uncomfortable, not having my son here where I could see him.

"I will have to go back," Edwina said, sounding and looking more worried than I felt. "Quickly. No one must know about this."

That, of course, was the universe's cue to completely throw everything against the fan. My mother walked around the side of the house, with Emond.


	9. Chapter 8: Hitting the Fan (Jocelyn)

Jocelyn

What the hell was I doing here? I had my own kitchen. I didn't need the extra space. I was only cooking eggs for crying out loud! We had eggs in our frig. Emond wasn't even here, so it wasn't like I was here out of loyalty to him because it was what he wanted. Damn. Was I actually becoming comfortable with vampire company? Oh, just shoot me already...

The little psychic was saying something about hoping everything went well, being all cryptic and annoying. I mostly tuned her out. I was wondering where Emond was. He said he wanted to go for a run before lunch, but he was overdue. It wasn't the first time, so I got tired of waiting to eat. He was a big boy who could make his own food since he was late. Maybe next time he-

The psychic hissed.

"I lost them," she said, standing with the parents in the living room. "They came in contact with a wolf."

"They?" I asked, unable to help myself. "Who they? They who?"

"Ben and Edwina," she said.

Bendwina suddenly wormed its way into my brain and I suppressed a snort.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"I won't know, would I?" she snapped at me.

"Oh right," I said, taking the eggs off the stove and grabbing a towel to wipe excess egg off my hands. I would have washed them first, but I treated everything of theirs as disposable because it was. I swear, they probably had some environmentally friendly way of disposing of just about everything they got tired of.

"You're dwelling again," whispered the warrior. I tried not to jump, but I might as well not try. Even the tiny little jerks they seemed to notice. He was the only one that could sneak up on me.

"Piss off," I said. I had long since quit caring to come up with new lines.

He chuckled and ran a hand through his hair, not quite long enough to obscure his vision. I suddenly wondered if vampire hair grew. Would I even notice if it did?

"You can deflect all you want," he said, "but you're still coming up with reasons to hate us. I'm only pointing it out so that you might notice. What you do about it is up to you."

He started to walk away, looking towards the living room, just in time to see the tiny psychic go completely rigid and start to topple, stiff as a board. Her warrior boyfriend caught her and she laughed. She laughed loudly.

"What?" asked the warrior. "What is it?"

"I don't know how it happened," she said. "It's not possible."

I perked up. If anything described my son, it was those two little words.

"What isn't?" asked Daddy Vamp. "What happened?"

"Edwina," said the psychic. "She's... human."

Oh no. I knew. In that moment I knew. I didn't need any more information. So, Emond's gift was not limited to unmaking wolves. We were just lucky that it wasn't permanent. Either he didn't or he couldn't keep Sam a norm, as she went back through her growth spurt and could phase within a week. But he must have figured out, or more likely accidentally, changed the girl too. I had to find him. The pack was none too happy with him. I had no idea how the leeches would react.

I slipped out the back, quietly bounding down to and over the stream, shredding my way into my wolf form as I went.

 _Emond,_ I thought but got no response. He must be in human form. I circled half way around the Cullen's land before I found Emond's trail. It wasn't old and it was easy to follow. It took me a weird path up one of the mountains, and I slowed, as he is trail thickened, and listened.

The sounds were unmistakable. I was aghast. They were... together. Ben and... her.

My stomach turned. But then I remember that she was mortal now. Well, that was better than plowing a stone, a guess. I kept my distance, not wanting to be some potential peeping Tom... Was there a female name for that? Peeping... crap, what's the female version of Tom? Whatever.

I doubled around, staying well away from those sounds, finally finding Emond's trail again. I followed it, but as I got closer and closer to the end, there could be no mistake. This... could be bad.

It was too late. Ben's mother was outside. I don't know how or why. It was a Saturday, and by all rights, she shoulda been in La Push or out fishing or something. But not only was she home, she was standing in the yard, only a couple of feet from my son.

He was in his wolf form, looking gawky and young. He looked scared but was approaching her. There was no way I could do anything. Walking out of the woods naked only made slightly less sense than doing so as a giant wolf. She wasn't armed, but I didn't want to risk getting shot at, to say nothing of the crap storm I would bring down upon the tribe if I was to reveal myself to the Forks' Police Chief.

 _Emond!_ I demanded in my mind, but he didn't react, and it was only then that I realized I couldn't hear his mind at all. What was going on? Had he left my pack? I didn't understand and I didn't have time to think this through. As it was, I didn't think there was going to be any way to avoid what was about to happen.

He phased. And there he was; young little beautiful boy. It was impossible not to see the mother in her instantly take over, the fact that he had been a wolf a minute ago completely forgotten.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I'm sorry Grandma. I didn't mean to."

Oh. Shit.

"Hush," she said. "Hush. It's going to be okay. Come on, let's get you inside."

I wanted to scream. There were so many ways this could go wrong. I wanted to run back and get clothes and run back here and invent some lie, say he was a kid from the res, laugh off the wolf part and take him home, but there was no chance, none, that I could leave. What if she took him to the station? Oh god, oh god! What if I never got my baby back?

I could hear the rustling of cloth inside and figured he was being wrapped in a blanket.

"Now," she said, "what's your name sweetie?"

"Emond," he said.

"Okay, Emond," she said, sounding a little like the cop she was. "Why were you in my yard?"

"I came to see you," he said sounding scared.

"Me?" she asked. "Why?"

"I did something bad," he said. "I'm in trouble."

"Oh," she said, sounding as though she understood. I sure as hell didn't.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I..." he said, "I can't tell you."

"Why?" she asked, sounding more amused than weary.

"You're going to be upset with dad," he said. "Or, he's afraid you will be."

"Who's your dad?" she asked.

Oh no.

I let forth a low whine, one that I knew he could hear. There was a rustle of cloth again.

"It's okay, sweetie," she said. "I won't tell anyone."

Please, no. Please no. Please. No. No, no. No! NO!

"Ben," he said.

"Ben who?" she asked.

Okay, if I could have, I would have laughed. I couldn't have told you whether or not it would have sounded crazy, but it would have been a laugh.

He didn't say anything. I heard something that sounded a lot like someone going from standing to sitting. On the floor. Hard.

"I..." she said. "You... you called me..."

"Grandma," he said.

"Who's..." she swallowed. "Wait. Sweetie, how old are you?"

"Statistically, I am within the normal range for a toddler of twenty-five months," he said.

There was a longish pause.

"You didn't really answer my question," she said.

"I can't tell you everything," he said. "It wouldn't be safe for you."

"Why is that? she asked, sounding skeptical.

"I can't tell you that either," he said, "for the same reason."

"Alright," she said, sounding annoyed but trying to hide it. "What can you tell me?"

He was quiet.

"Josie is my mom," he said.

She let out a low sigh.

"That stupid-" she murmured.

"He's not dumb," said Emond. "He's just imperfect."

I was pretty sure she was surprised he heard her. Finally, she chuckled.

"You're different from my other grandma," he said.

There was a long silence. Aw, crap.

"You know Lin?" she asked, sounding distant with just the barest hint of coldness to her voice.

"Sure," he said. "She knows all about me."

Double crap.

"Wait right here, sweetie," she said. "Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?"

"I can make myself something when in hungry if that's alright," he replied.

I heard her walk, then the clatter of plastic and a dial tone.

Triple crap.

Dial. Ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Lin," she said, sounding sugary sweet. "It's Carrie."

"Hey," Mom said pleasantly back.

"Is there something you would like to tell me about?" she asked.

Mom was quiet just a second longer than was really good for her.

"Not that I can think of," she said. "What is this about, Carrie?"

"There is a little boy sitting in my living room," she said, pausing for Mom's reaction.

"Little boy?" she asked, and I could easily make out the nerves in her voice.

"Yeah," said Carrie, and I could tell she smelled blood. "Beautiful little boy. You know, our grandson?"

Crap, crap, crap. Crappity crap crap cccrrraaappp...

"Carrie," Mom said, placating.

"Save it," said Carrie. "You lied to me."

"Did I?" asked Mom, getting her crafty mom voice going. "When?"

"You didn't tell me that my child was a father!" Carrie said loudly. "You knew and you didn't tell me!"

"That is true," she said. "I didn't. That's not the same as lying."

Carrie sounded too flustered to speak. Mom waited.

"So," said Carrie finally. "Now what?"

"Firstly," said Mom. "You have no idea what is going on. You know one fact, and it pisses you off because you believe you have a right to the truth. That's bull; you don't. Second, there may be perfectly good reasons why we didn't tell you about this. Believe me, for a lot of this stuff, you're better off not knowing. Need to know. And lastly, I'm not the one you're really mad at. I know it, and you know it."

Carrie sighed.

"You're an insufferable bitch, you know that?" she said, a reluctant chuckle escaping her.

"That why we're such good friends," said Mom. "Oh, and if you see my daughter, tell her to get her ass back home for a visit at some point or I'm going to wallop her."

Something about her tone had me convinced she wasn't talking to Carrie.

"Okay," said Carrie. "Fishing tomorrow?"

"As though we would be doing something else," retorted Mom and hung up.

I heard Emond walking, maybe towards the kitchen.

"Hmm," said Carrie. "I'm sorry we don't have any clothes your size. Maybe I can find some shorts."

"I'm fine," said Emond, opening the frig. "I don't really like clothes, but if it would make you more comfortable, I could borrow a towel."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

"You really are Ben's son," she said, wondrously.

"I said I was, silly," said Emond, and I could tell he was smiling.

"It's just hard to believe," she said. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I'm very capable," he said.

"Tell me about yourself," she said. "But only stuff I can know. Stuff I need to know, to understand."

"I live at The Cullens' house, with Mom," he said. "I learn about all sorts of things."

"Hrmph," she said. "Of course they're in on it. Okay, go on."

"That's about it," he said. "I learn with Dad and Mom and all the Cullens about everything. But there's so much to learn. I don't think I'll every learn it all. I might know everything that people know right now, but by the time I do, so much more will have been learned. I'll never keep up."

Carrie laughed, "No, I guess not."

There was the scuffing of a chair and a creak, probably someone sitting down.

"How smart are you?" Carrie asked.

"Well, how smart are you?" asked Emond.

"Touché, kid," she laughed.

There was a brief pause.

"Why did you come here today?" she asked.

He got quiet. I could almost see him looking down, gathering his thoughts or scared, I could never be sure exactly which. Not like that stupid bloodsucker. Ex-bloodsucker. Whatever.

"I told you," he said. "To see you."

"But who am I to you?" she asked. "I know I'm your grandmother, but really, we've never met and you don't know me much more than I know you."

"You are the police chief in Forks," he said. "You are firm but fair. You have a bigger heart than you let show because you were hurt by grandpa. You're afraid that you missed out on your one chance to be happy, and you're scared that because dad is leaving, you are losing the last and most important part of what makes you who you are. I'm scared of that too. I don't want him to leave either. He's my dad and I love him. I don't want to get left behind. Why is your face wet? Did I make you sad?"

She had started crying about halfway through. I could hear her sniffles from here.

"It's nothing," she said. "I guess... I guess you do know something about me. You're dad tell you all of that?"

"Some," he said. "I figured out the rest myself. I have good teachers. Aunt Alice understands people really well, and Dad and Edwina have been telling me a lot about love and family."

He got quiet.

"I think I hurt Edwina," he said. "I am different, different from everyone I know. I don't know why or how, but I can do things not even I understand or can control. And I think I hurt her."

"How badly are we talking?" asked Carrie, her cop voice creeping in again.

"She will be alright," he said, "but she won't be the same. She might be again, one day, but I can't tell you about that."

"Need to know," she muttered.

"But I hurt her," he said, sounding sad and scared, and it was the very definition of torture that I couldn't go to him. I whipped my head back and forth and whined.

"I hurt her," he said again. "I did a bad thing, something I never wanted, never meant to do, and I'm so scared that I can't take it back, that it won't ever be like it was, that I won't... that Dad won't..."

She must have gathered him up, by the way his little cries were suddenly muffled, and the way her voice came, soothing and motherly. And I cried too. For the first time in my wolf form, tears rolled down my face, dripping off the tip of my nose, my head bent to the earth, the bending bow of a tree shouldering me up, the only thing keeping me on my feet. I shuttered, my own snuffling breaths rattling in my throat and mussel.

"It will be alright," she said. "It's going to be okay. Grandma has you, and nothing's going to happen. I won't let it."

He cried himself out, maybe a little faster than I did.

"Is Dad going to forgive me?" he asked.

"I can't be sure," she said, "but I'm willing to bet you don't have to worry about a thing. Besides, if he doesn't, I'll have a word or two with my son. You don't have a thing to worry about, sweetie."

"Okay," he said. "I think... I think I should go home now."

I shook my head, preparing to meet him in the woods.

"Why don't I drive you?" she asked. "I have a thing or two I would like to say if that's alright."

"I don't see why not," he said. "The Cullens and Mom won't be able to tell you much more than I already have."

"That's okay," she said. "I don't really need to know much more. Need to know only."

He giggled, "Need to know. Got it."

The thought of him getting into a car freaked me out, which just made no sense. Like, he regularly ran around the woods at faster speeds and he wasn't exactly a fluffy, dumpy kid, but he had never been in a car before and who knew what could happen on the road. Just because I could get beaned by a four by four and walk away didn't mean he could.

It was all okay, though. Emond seemed to have a grand old time. He was entertained by the way everything felt, the world rushing by even though he couldn't feel it.

By the time they turned onto the drive up to the Cullen's... house... That didn't seem to cover it. Anyway, by the time they started up towards the house, I had had enough and went pelting through the forest to where I had stashed a spare set of clothes. I shifted back and got dressed, and was just bounding over the stream and slinking up to the house when I saw the group in the back yard.

Carrie was standing beside Ben and the completely, unnaturally human Edwina. The vampire parents were giving them some room, and Emond was standing well back, looking scared and unsure. I stayed where I was a moment, not wanting to interfere if I could help it. He was a smart boy. He could figure this out.

He stood there, unmoving, looking as though he might bolt. Carrie was about to say something, but Ben put a hand on her arm and she gave her son a look as though she were seeing him for the first time.

Edwina stepped forward, towards my son, and though I couldn't see her face from here, her words sounded as though they split a smile.

"It's okay, Emond," she said gently, her voice so much more natural than that metallic sweetness she had before.

"I'm okay," she said. "You didn't hurt me. I'm fine. You're okay."

His face sagged and then pinched. He tried very hard to hold back his emotions before everything surged forth, pulling him in tow. He almost toppled her as he leaped, but neither seemed to mind. He clung to her, locking ankles behind her back as he hugged himself to her, and she held him, tears in her eyes visible from here.

My guts twisted. She was so different. I was one thing to say she was human, but she was just... so... human! She was like a person now, and somehow, I felt like I couldn't stand it. Now, she had even taken away the last thing I could reasonably justify hating her for. She wasn't so pretty anymore, but what she lost seemed to have made her more.

He was holding my son, patting him, and she looked like a mother herself. It was sweet and tender and I kinda hated how much I couldn't hate her anymore. Was there anything she would leave me? Would she rob me of everything, leaving me not even a reason to hate her for it?

"Seems like you've been keeping secrets, son," said Carrie.

I started walking towards them.

"I had to, mom," he said. "I didn't have a choice."

"I know," she said, "I know all that. And I get it. But you could have told me some things."

A flickering of light caught my eye, something gleaming. For a second I thought it was her. Out of the corner of my eye, it seemed to sparkle, like their skin, but then I remembered she was human now.

"I mean," she said, "this isn't like getting engaged. You have a kid, kid!"

I froze. Or at least, I felt like I froze. I felt rigid with denial and numbness as what I was seeing and what I was hearing caught up to me. In truth, I was accelerating.

Emond nearly fell as her hand was pulled away from him, caught tightly in my own as I dragged it under my scrutinizing eyes. It was huge, a shock of diamonds, a ritzy ring for his richie ritz girlfriend- fiancée! His friggin' fiancée!

"Ow," she moaned, and I realized her arm was bowed at an awkward angle. I didn't care more than noticing.

"You're engaged?" I bit out between clipping teeth.

"You're hurting me," she said. She sounded scared. I liked that.

"Josie stop," said someone. It might have been Ben. I didn't care.

"You're not taking this away too," I snarled, trying to figure out why I was so angry.

"Mama, stop," said Emond, now stand beside her. Finally, I looked at him. No. It wasn't that. It wasn't the ring. I knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But now, human, she could now do the one thing for him that only I could give him, that she couldn't. Looking in my son's face, I couldn't lie to myself anymore. Her mortality made her capable of being a mother, meant that she could bear him children. And what was worse, they would be normal and perfect and clean of this vampire and wolfish otherworldliness. She had cut me from him completely.

And like that, my vision went red, and I lost my focus.

I couldn't tell you what happened. I pieced it together after the fact. I was about to tear her in half, shaking her to bits like a chew toy as I phased, but Emond stopped me. He shimmered, but this time, it was different. There was almost a definitive light shining off of him, and when he phased, this was no scrappy pup. He was not an adult, but he was larger, fuller than he had been, certainly a more serious threat. It caused me pause before he shouldered me back, and he was strong, maybe as strong as me, despite his size. And, in my anger, I went for him.

He met my teeth with his own, snapping and keeping me at bay. I tried to use my size to overbear him, but he moved just out of range every time I closed, nipping me hard enough to keep my focus and anger. Finally, he bent low and checked my forefeet, rolling my support out from under me, taking my bite to do it, but leaving me down all the same.

Once I was down, he caught me by the throat and held me. I tried to fight, but he squeezed or stood unyielding, leaving me to work myself over and left me whining on my back. When he was sure I was not faking it, he let me loose but kept me on my back with a look. Standing over me, he breathed a deep breath, then, he slammed a paw down upon my chest, as he did, we both phased.

My son was left kneeling over me, and it took me a moment to realize that the change in his wolf self had carried over to his boy self. I say boy but he really wasn't one, now. My toddler baby was gone, and a young boy remained, looking about eight or ten, not too far off from puberty. His hair was almost to his shoulders, his once round face now drawn and thin, his limbs and body long, looking built for dexterity. His usually mature expression looked more right on him, and I felt immediately rotten. I had caused this; I knew it. It was as though his body knew, understood that he would not be enough to defend what he felt he must defend. He was protecting the innocent, as his foremothers before him, and to do what he felt he must be done, his body had changed, had surged forward, like they had surged into wolves in days of old when they were not yet of age and the need was great, enabling them the ability to do what must be done. What had my actions cost him? How much of his childhood had he lost?

He stood, looking bold, a courage to him, and with a warmth I almost couldn't make sense of, he reached out to me.

I took his hand, and he pulled me to his feet. I flinched at the contact, but he refused to let me go. He pulled me to him, his head almost reaching my breast. He hugged me and I put my arms about his shoulders, looking over his head to see our audience.

Ben held Edwina to him, both looking awed and understandably shaken. The Cullens stood at their side, looking prepared to help if necessary. And beside them, looking as though she was going to puke, was Carrie.

Oh crap. Right.

I was suddenly starkly aware of how starkly naked I was, which was only slightly less mortifying than the fact that I can just been a giant wolf that nearly killed someone in front of her, who had, until recently, been a vampire. Not that she knew that, but still...

"Um," I said, "I should probably put something on."

The little psychic appeared like someone was donating free samples. She had a pair of jeans shorts and T-shirt. At least she seemed to start letting me wear what I wanted. If she showed up in another cocktail dress, I was going to make her eat it.

"It's okay mom," Emond said. "No harm done."

I looked down at him, and he looked back up at me. His big brown eyes softened me. It didn't matter how big he was getting, he really was still my baby. And his father's son.

"You aren't mad at them," he said. "You're just scared. But no matter what happens, Dad doesn't love you any less. Me neither."

I squeezed him once more and quickly put clothes on to hide the lump in my throat. Naturally, as soon as I was done, he didn't let me off the hook. He put his arms around my waist, hugging me tight, with arms I was sure could have lifted me off my feet.

"I love you," he said. "Even when you're stupid, even when you're angry and stupid and do stupid things and hurt people. It's not okay, and I'll stop you, but I still love you. Loving you doesn't mean giving you what you want. It means giving you what you need. You needed to be stopped, and you needed to see what you were doing, honestly."

He let go of me. He walked over to Edwina and carefully to her wrist, putting his other arm around her. He brought her forward.

There was a deeply purple bruise on her arm, unmistakably the exact shape and size of my grip. He pulled slightly on her arm, and she flinched, the quietest almost-sob coming from deep in her chest. It was gut-wrenching, a sound of undeniable innocent pain.

I looked at her, really looked, and saw that she was afraid of me. I had hurt her deeply, and for what? What had she done? Become human, by accident, because of my son? Was I really, really so self-centered?

I found myself wanting her to answer. I realized that there was no way. She was human now, and she couldn't hear me. Really? Did I really miss that? Did I really miss... her?

Tears filled my eyes, bitter, and hard. For the first time, I hated that I needed to hate them. I just wanted them to be. I just wanted to see her as a person and even as a human, but I still needed to hate her to feel better about me.

"No," she said.

I was startled. I almost ran for a moment.

"Look at me," she said.

I almost ran again. And I looked at her.

"I'm not afraid, not anymore," she said. I really looked at her. I believed her.

"I was hurt, by you," she said. "And that's not okay. But not because it hurt me. It was wrong because it doesn't help you."

She walked up to me and hugged me. She smelled amazing. She was warm. Well, warmer. She was the kinda cool warm of regular- whatever! She was like, a person. And, slowly, at first, then all at once, I started to get it. It wasn't about her. I was angry. I was always angry. Everything single time I felt afraid, felt less, felt weak, felt out of control, I got angry. It didn't matter if she was a vampire or a person or what, she was an easy target. Because it was easier to blame her for everything that was wrong in my life than it was to realize who's fault it really was; mine. I was responsible for it, for all the choices I had ever made. I would rather judge the hell out of her than recognize my own failing. I would rather have her be the bitch than realize the bitch was me.

Yeah, I had been crying before, if you could call my gritted teeth and tears in my eyes crying at all. But now, this time, it was so much more, so deep. I felt opened to my soul, as though old infected bits in me that had closed and tried to heal over were splitting, and all the guck in there was draining from me. It hurt! It literally felt like opening old wounds, but how else could you get at all that crap still in there?

"It's okay," she whispered, and I could feel it. Something in her, not just the softness and the warmth, spoke to me. I don't think I could have felt it if she were still stone, but there was no doubt in my mind that she cared about me, that she wanted me to be happy and feel whole. I hadn't felt like that with anyone. I wasn't sure I had ever felt that way with Ben, could have felt it with him, not before that moment.

"You are worth caring about," she said, "Always have been, and always will be."

I began to calm, feeling something odd, something I couldn't remember feeling before. I felt peaceful.

I looked around, over her shoulder, and found Ben beside his mother, his arm around her. Tears were in her eyes. Ben's other arm was around Emond's shoulders. He was just too damned big now! It almost made me want to laugh.

He smiled, seeing my eyes on his. He nodded, and I knew what he meant. I was getting it. For the first time, I wasn't just agreeing with them reflexively, saying what I thought they wanted to hear. I was starting to understand the truth. I was worth caring about, truly. They meant what they said. Just because all this time I couldn't feel it didn't mean they were lying. Now I could. Now, I was starting to believe it.

"This is what you want?" asked Carrie of Ben. "All this weirdness?"

Ben smiled. Despite his size, he lifted his son to his hip. They both sorta chuckled as he settled him there.

"This is life, mom," he said. "It is getting all the information you can to make the best decision."

"I didn't get all the information," she said, sounding like she was starting to get mad.

Ben was completely at ease.

"It wasn't your decision to make," he said. "It was mine. And I have all the information I need to make the decision that is best for me. The information I kept from you was in your best interest. Knowing this stuff is dangerous. If I told you, I'd be risking you, and me, all of us. I couldn't do that. I can't and won't tell you more. I'm happy. This is the life I want, and so much more."

"But it's dangerous," she replied, sounding scared for her son.

"So is driving a car or walking down the street," he said. "I know the risks. The risks are worth it."

He hugged her and Emond did too. I realized I was still hugging the former lee- that I was still hugging Edwina, and she was turned to watch, our arms around the other. There was a connection here, one that I had never expected, but it was different from anything I had ever felt. My Pack had been my sisters, but this... this felt like family.

"You're sure?" Carrie asked.

"I am," Ben said, turning to look at her, his eyes settling on us both.

"The next time you see me," said Edwina, "I will be like I was. You mustn't tell anyone about this, not one single detail."

"Not even mom," I said. "You can talk to her about me, but not about them, okay?"

Carrie nodded, "Need to know."

"Need to know," I agreed.

"But," she said, turning to Ben, "if I don't ask questions, if I only know what I need to, can... can I still be a part of your life?"

"Of course, Mom," he said, practically laughing. "You're just as welcome here as any other in-law would be."

I tried not to flinch.

"I see," said Carrie, deadpan. "I'll leave immediately."

Daddy Vamp laughed, "A little more welcome than that."

Slowly, the gathering seemed to dissolve, everyone starting to head inside. Just before she left me, Edwina looked deep into my eyes.

"Are you good?" she asked. She didn't want to leave my side if I still needed the support. I wasn't entirely comfortable with her supporting me at all, but I knew that I was fine, for now.

"I'm good," I said, and she nodded. She turned and walking inside with the rest. I turned and walked to the edge of the creek. I wasn't alone.

"So," said the little psychic, "what are you thinking about?"

I smirked, looking out over the water.

"I thought your sister was the one obsessed with what people were thinking," I said, half-joking.

She smiled, "More than most, it's true. But this time, I'm interested. You see, I am used to seeing my family's paths, the way they will move about the world. I help them when I can. Since you came here with Emond, that task has been harder. I didn't realize how much I enjoyed it."

I smiled at her. It might have been a malicious smile this morning. It wasn't now.

"You got used to playing the chess master?" I asked, half serious. She laughed.

"Yes," she admitted. "That was part of it. Knowing what others do not can be fun at times, and funny, and really useful. Other times, it lets me have a purpose and help people. It feels good to help others. And, I'd like to help you."

I snorted, "You can't help me."

"Not the way I usually do, no," she agreed. "But that doesn't mean I can't be helpful."

She had a point. She really did. I just didn't know how to let her.

And in that moment, I got it. I wasn't afraid of her helping me. I was afraid to admit I needed help. And that was just stupid. Everyone needs help sometimes. No one person can do everything they needed to do to survive in this world these days. Hell, I came a hell of a lot closer than most, and I couldn't raise my son the way he deserved without help. I could still be afraid to ask if I wanted; I could, but would that really help me, at all?

"What do you need from me?" I asked.

She smiled, "What are you afraid of?"

I opened my mouth to tell her just that, that I was afraid to ask for help, but instead, I said, "I'm afraid to be alone. I want what they have, and I am terrified that I won't get it. I am afraid that my last, good chance at being happy is gone, and that without Ben, I am lost, forgotten, and will never have a life worth living."

I felt stupid, so stupid. I knew better than this. I was better than this! I wasn't some whiny girl, someone who thought so little of herself. And yet, I was. It was true. Despite everything that I knew, everything that I believed, I couldn't let go of this feeling that, in the end, it was all over for me.

She looked at me, and I wasn't sure if she was thinking or what. She just looked and finally, she nodded.

"What is the weather going to be like next Thursday?" she asked me.

I looked at her like she was crazy, "You would know better than me."

"Exactly," she said, "but that isn't my point. What will it be like?"

"I have no clue," I said, feeling uncomfortable for some reasons. I didn't like this game.

"Is your life over because you don't know what next Thursday will be like?" she asked.

I felt a strange sort of warm pressure on my chest, "No. I guess not."

She walked over and took my hand. She was freezing, but it felt sort of nice. Soothing, almost.

"The future is kind of like the past," she said. "Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't make it any less real. And just because you have no idea what it will be doesn't mean it will be bad. You have spent how long carrying a torch for Ben? Long enough that anything else seems impossible, seems less than what you could have had with him, which, honestly, you have no idea what it would have been like, or if it would have been what you really wanted. But, what you don't understand is carrying a torch means."

She paused, and I looked at her, the question in my look.

"Carrying a torch is something you have to do," she said. "You have to hold it up or risk getting burned. You can't put it down or risk catching the world around you on fire. You are trapped, without choice or options. It is a simpler way to live; everything you do risks nothing if it goes the way you expect or you're blameless if it doesn't. But, you aren't free to live. At best, you just cope."

Alice stepped forward and put her hand on my cheek.

"You deserve to live," she said, looking into my eyes, hers a rather pretty dark gold color.

"You deserve to be free," she went on. "No matter what happens, you get the right to choose. You could stay here. You could leave. You could be a mother to Emond or not. You could kill yourself, or you could be happy. You could listen to me or you could push me in the creek. It's all up to you. You can do anything. It's your life and your right. Nothing should hold you back. Not even you."

I thought about what she was saying. Finally, I nodded. She was right. It was my choice. And I could finally be free.

"Thank you," I said. Then I pushed Alice in the creek. Laughing, I walked back to the house.


	10. Chapter 9: New Beginnings (Benjamin)

Benjamin

I shook my head, "This is ridiculous."

"It's fine," said Mom, tugging at the back of my jacket. "Quit fidgeting."

"I'm not fidgeting!" I complained in a hushed whisper, completely aware that I was doing just that.

Mom rolled her eyes, and Angelo just shook his head.

"Why are you nervous?" he asked. "You have no reason to be. This is what you want."

"I know," I said, "I know! It's just... Dad..."

I tried no to glance over at my father, sitting comfortable beside Felicia. I couldn't meet his gaze.

I wasn't that I wanted Mom up here instead of him. It wasn't that I thought he didn't deserve it. It was that my dad would be in tears, utterly beside himself, or gibbering like a lunatic for the next several hours. And I just couldn't put up with that today, of all days. So, yeah, maybe it was that I didn't want him up here. And yeah, maybe I did feel guilty. But, that didn't matter, because today, today was our wedding day.

I stood there, in my classic tux, ornamented even more classically, and I was pretty sure it was older than my parents. Angelo matched, though his was a more modern version of mine. I would have thought Jesse would be up here too, but apparently, he was on again with Mickie and there was a better than not chance he would miss the ceremony in a closet somewhere. Or, so said Alice. Josie, on the other hand, was wearing a neat, simple, rather elegant dress that so matched the look and feel of a tux that she hadn't complained, not once since she had put it on, and was standing there, looking at me like I was an idiot. So, she looked at me like she always did.

And, I stood there, jittery and wanting this to start already. It had been an entire day, a full day, walking up without my betrothed beside me, not seeing her as Alice did lord knew what to her, pointlessly, in my opinion, because she was already perfect, and I had been limited to showering, a quick waxing around my eyebrows for some reason, and hurriedly spoken instructions about what part of the tux went where before my dad had to come and help, which he pretty much only did by annoying me into putting in the effort to figure it out just to get him to stop trying to be helpful.

At last, I was standing in the Cullen's living room, and what an amazing sight it was. Alice had worked hard, evidently. The theme seemed to be some sort of authentic, traditionalism mixed oddly with minimalist naturalism. The furnishings were all in place, the seating, bouquets on tables, garlands and such, but it was set starkly against hung antique cloth, white satins and cream lace. I couldn't name most of the flowers, but they were chosen for scent as far as I could tell, all theirs hues muted, yet softly emphasized by the colorless backdrop. There seemed a tasteful woodsiness to it all, speaking of the forests that lined the property and our little town, with many of the chairs and tables left bare of cloth and stain, raw and only barely polished. The bouquets themselves where all fringed in green grasses that looked local and somehow homey. Thin crawling vines climbed the cloth backdrops in places with tiny budding blooms and delicate leaves. Every detail was looked to, every pedal seemingly molded into place by an attentive artist. It was no wonder that about the only thing that had been looping through Alice's mind the last few weeks according to Edwina was _So much to do, so little time_.

I had been standing at the altar for some time. I hadn't really been keeping track. Now, I was starting to count the seconds for something to do. Katherine stood before me, ministering. Emily offered to become ordained, but I knew a bad idea when I heard it. Usually.

Josie nudged me, "It's fine. Soon, man. Relax!"

"I am relaxed," I hissed through gritted teeth.

"I am relaxed," she hissed right back in the worst imitation I had ever heard and I couldn't help but chuckle.

Then, the music started. It was Pachelbel's canon, sort of. It was highly flourished, with lots of subtle undertones and little trills that sounded almost improvised, but despite being played on one piano, by Rory, it was thick with Edwina's style and sound.

As one, the guests, the small number of local friends and family who had come, stood and turned towards the stairs. I was less jittery when I had been about to die. Both time.

And then, there she was.

The entire crowd gasped or sighed, noisily. I tended to agree with them.

Her hair was pulled straight back, leaving numerous trestles of hair falling from where it was held back in a wave of what looked almost like downward flame. Her veil did nothing to obscure her face, only accenting her hair with tiny beads and seed pearl, reminiscent of baby's breath. The dress was vintage lace, and I would have bet my life on it being a popular design when she had been alive. Or, the first time, anyway. It was sheer lace about her arms, billowing and loose in a way that showed the slender slope of her shoulders better than if it had been skin tight. The cut landing in the middle of her chest, and while it was loose in the bust and about the thighs, it hugged her waist in a very pleasing and eye-catching way, at least for me. The train was long and elaborate and classic. A less graceful soul would probably break her neck trying to walk in it. She held a bouquet of some kind of colorful purple and yellow irises, with other lesser blooms divvied up amongst the green. Emanuel walked at her side, dress in casual, simple clothing of white, his only adornment a single iris of the same variety as her bouquet, slipped in his breast pocket. And for all that, taking in all the beauty that was set before me, I couldn't stop staring at her face.

For a moment, I was at a loss. I had been there; despite her protestations and her assurances, she could not keep me away from her three-day conversion back into being a vampire. I stayed away for less than an hour before I couldn't stand it and I came back to her. Katherine had injected her with a large dose of venom, and she was thrashing in her room, trying not to scream. As soon as she saw me, she lost all ability to hold back and after screaming herself hoarse trying to make me leave, I held her as she sobbed and moaned. She beat on me more than once, though it did her little good and me little harm. I held her still when I could and let her rage when I couldn't. The entire time, I said nothing, only was present and close and bore witness. Towards the end, she made fewer and fewer outbursts. Towards the end of the second day, I slept and awoke some hours later to her watching me. The intensity must have been the pain she was in, but the reddish hue her eyes were becoming made it look nearly threatening. Finally, her last moments of renewed life were over, and I held her as her body stilled, her heart racing into silence, the last bit of her humanity crystallizing into her vampire self once again.

Her eyes were the only thing that gave it away. They weren't green anymore, nor the red they now were either. She wore golden contacts, apparently, but that was the only sign of her immortality. Though this was the second time I had seen her in makeup, this was totally different. Her face had been made up so that it looked nearly identical to her human countenance, though with her vampiric beauty, it was particularly striking.

However, her beauty, in human hues or not, wasn't what drew me to her. Since her transformation, her face had dramatically changed. She looked exactly as she had before her stint as a human, but it was her expression that had altered. When she had returned to vampirism, the filter on her emotions that had been absent while she had been human remained absent. Either it was some renewed vitality within her or her joy at her betrothal to me, but she had not gone back to her wholly control mask and now let her every expression beam from her to brilliant effect. And right now, she was perhaps the happiest I could remember seeing her. It was utterly breathtaking, and I wasn't being the least bit biased. Mostly.

Her slightly shy smile and considerable joy was effusive, and I soon found myself having to remind myself that I had to wait here, that I wasn't to cross the distance between us and take her into my arms, and kiss her polished lips. All my nervousness washed away, leaving a definitive eagerness behind. I wanted this silly thing to be over and done so that I could kiss her and have her, forever. I was ready for my wedding night.

And then, she stood beside me. Her father passed her grip from his arm to mine. She smiled and kissed his cheek, and he touched both our faces, shaking hands with Mom before going to stand beside his wife. Alice and Emily in their bridesmaid dresses came to stand beside her as Josie and Angelo stood with me. I tried not to glance at Dad. I was pretty sure I could recognize his sniffling.

But then, she squeezed my arm, very gently, and my eyes found hers, and I found her again. She was here with me. We were here together. Everything fell away, feeling as though the world, the universe revolved around us. Katherine was speaking, but I didn't hear her. Edwina was my world. Myself and her, us, we were everything to me in the moment. Everything else was but a whisper, an echo, no less meaningful yet utterly secondary and relatively insignificant. I loved her and she loved me, and I needed nothing else.

Finally, Katherine said something that caught Edwina's attention. It was time for the vows.

"Benjamin," she said, then reiterated, more casually, "my Ben. It feels like I've been waiting a century to find you."

I let out a short guffaw. Her smile twitched and she continued.

"Before I met you," she said, her voice carrying beautifully over the crowd, "my world was grey. I acted out of habit, did what was expected of me, and thought that love was theoretical. Once I knew you, I believed that I would spend the rest of my life trying to prove myself worthy of you. But now, I know the truth."

She smiled at me, and the way her voice constricted, the way her face trembled, no one would have noticed the lack of tears unless they were looking for them.

"I am amazing," she said. "You have taken away all the lies I told myself about my shortcomings. By believing in me, you have laid all doubts I had about myself to rest. You have helped me find a happiness beyond what I thought was impossible. You have helped me to love and be loved in a way I couldn't have dreamed. Being your wife was less of a choice than loving you. It was an inevitability. I am yours, forever."

I shifted her hand from my arm, taking it in both of mine while she still held her bouquet in the other. I faced her completely, my eyes upon her, and found my voice as I never had.

"I love you," I said ardently. "From the moment I saw you, I knew who you were and what I wanted of you, and I spent just about every moment I could stand trying to deny it. Loving wasn't a choice for me, wasn't a decision I made. It was an undeniable part of who I am, as natural as gravity, as easy and essential as breathing. Trouble is, I'm not great at it."

There were a few chuckles from the crowd.

"But that okay," I said genteelly. "I am prepared to spend the rest of my existence attempting to perfect it. And even if I were to spend a millennium failing, it would be a full life worth living. I am honored and blessed to be your husband. It is the foremost thing I want to be; I am yours, forever."

I reached to my left hand from my right, taking her wedding band from my pinkie. She easily removed her lace gloves, revealing her bare hand, all except for a similar band, which she had adorned on her thumb. She held her hand to me, and I carefully slid the simple golden band upon her ring finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed," I said.

She smiled, turning and handing her bouquet to Alice as she removed the band from her thumb and placing it easily upon my left ring finger. We kept our left hands clasped as Alice handed her back her bouquet.

"With this ring, I thee wed," she said, the ring as cool as her fingers against mine.

"Do you Edwina," asked Katherine, "take Ben as your wedded husband, for richer and for poorer, in good times and bad, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she said, her words resounding, with a fervor that was exciting and yet somehow startling.

"And do you Ben," she reiterated, "take Edwina as your wedded wife, for richer and for poorer, in good times and bad, as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," I said intently.

She was practically trembling with anticipation. I'm sure no human other than myself would have known it. You had to know her and be as close as I was.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Katherine said. "You may-"

Technically, she was breaking the rules. No human could move as fast as she closed with me. Alice somehow got the bouquet out of the way, otherwise, it would have been smashed against the side of my face as she threw her arms around me. She kissed me hard, as she had when she was human again. Her hard lips made it almost unbearable, almost as unbearable as my need to be kissing her. I held her in my arms and was completely unaware of the rest of the world.

She was my wife, my wife! We were married! How did this even happen?!

The next tens of minutes were a wash. Hugs and congratulations and shepherding. We stood before an exquisite cake and did as all couples did and feed each other in turn, despite the unorthodox nature of who we were. She ate her tiny piece delicately, and I got one good bite before she smeared it across my chin.

Cake was served while they ate, we were bounced about, meeting and greeting.

We got to chat briefly with our families. Dad was so happy it was painful, both socially and literally. After our hugs, he whispered that I had married myself one sturdy girl. I laughed, but I was doing that a lot so it didn't seem unusual. Mom was expectedly withdrawn, she smiled and hugged me, but mostly kept out of the way. Each of the Cullens hugged us and wished us well, and Emily made more than on veiled comment about enjoying our wedding night. Josie hugged us both, relaxed and smiling and giving us Emond's love. We had decided that it was best if he hadn't attended because of our other guests. Next, the Denali vampires came through.

I really hadn't expected much, but then again, I hadn't given the cousins, if in name only, much thought. I hadn't really thought much of other vampire allies, since there were so few that I knew of, less still those that valued human life as the Cullens did. And yet, now, on the day I actually had married Edwina, I saw them as something I hadn't expected; potential rivals.

I had no idea what to make of these two males, somehow aggressively uncoupled, smiling and making much of Edwina on her day. But there was something about that blonde that made me want to lead her away from them, casting barbed looks over my shoulder as I did. They were lovely, as all vampires were, but did they just have to be so... available?! This was a wedding for crying out loud! At least the couple, Carlos and Elodia, seemed to be behaving themselves.

"But," said Edwina at last, "where is Imrich?"

I had spent enough time around vampires to recognize startled surprise.

"He hasn't come to see you?" asked Carlos, his arm through Elodia's.

"Was he planning to?" Edwina asked.

"He left us some time ago," said the female, looking somewhat Spanish with her dark hair and slightly darker pale skin. "He hasn't been in contact with us for more than twenty-three days."

"Were that unlike him," said the blonde, "I might be worried, but he does so like his little brooding walks."

I was beginning to think the blonde wasn't the only one with an interest in my wife, and that this Imrich fellow had been coming here to confess his love for Edwina in hopes of talking her out of this day.

"Come," said the blonde. "I would dance with you on your wedding day."

She laughed, "Not a chance. On this, of all days, one would think you should be able to keep your thoughts to yourself. Besides, even if you had come here a perfect gentleman, there is no way I would give you the first dance."

She slipped a cool hand in mine, and she led me out onto the dance floor. It was at that moment that I realized I was about to be dancing, in front of an entire wedding full of people. I may have been a little pink.

"It isn't so bad," she smiled. "Take my hip, just move with me. I won't let you trip."

She took my other hand in the traditional pose, and I was nearly stiff with tension. We moved slowly as suddenly her music came from the piano, the song she had written for me, and I felt myself starting to relax.

"Do all single male vampires carry torches for you or just the ones you've met?" I asked before I could stop myself. I swear, her step bobbled.

"Are you jealous?" she asked incredulously. I was almost sure I heard a laugh from the crowd. Josie's laugh was, after all, very distinct to my ears.

It suddenly occurred to me that this was exactly what was going on. I was jealous. Definitively jealous. I couldn't help but chuckle quietly at myself.

"You are very cute," she teased.

"Oh hush," I said, half serious. "This is new to me."

"You've never been jealous before?" she asked.

"Not of someone in regards to you, no," I said.

"You've never once had doubts?" she asked, a wonder in her expression that somehow reminded me of the early days, the days we were first getting to know one another.

"No," I said. "I mean, when you left, I had to act as though we would never be together again, but even then, when literally all hope was lost short of death, it was still really hard."

"Hard?" she asked.

"To doubt," I clarified. "To give up on us."

She smiled, "Do you know how rare that really is?"

"Huh?" I mumbled.

She shook her head, her veil and hair rippling magnificently. Even I could pick out the sighing.

"You just don't see yourself clearly," she said. "I don't poke fun at you because you are jealous. I poke fun at you because you seem to expect yourself to be less so. I am amazed by how little you are already. It is just one of the many things I love about you, husband."

I kissed her. It took her hand on my shoulder, gently restraining me to keep me from really going at it.

"Oops," I said, and her smile was breathtaking.

"May I cut in?" said a voice as soon as the song ended. I turned to see Emanuel, with Josie standing just behind him.

"Sure," I said, handing Edwina off to him. I fully expected Josie to walk off the floor with me, but as soon as I was in arm's reach, she took my hand and pulled me over to a spot a ways from my wife and father-in-law. Before I could protest, she put an arm around me, and we started to dance, if a bit more stilted than I did with Edwina.

"You're so pushy," I commented sarcastically, her superior height painfully obvious.

"You're dancing with me," she said, a smirk on her lips, "so suck it up."

I sighed theatrically, "As though I have any choice..."

"See?" she said. "You're getting it."

I laughed. She had been so much herself lately, the her I knew before. Before we hooked up, before life got so messy, as she had been in the days when we had spent on the beach together, getting to know each other better than just about anyone. It was nice. I had my best friend back.

"So," I drew out the word, "how are you doing?"

"Me?" she chuckled. "It's your wedding day. What about you?"

"I'm wondering how you're doing," I said in the exact same tone as before.

She sighed, "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," I said, deadpan.

"Jeez," she said, "you can be such a jerk sometimes."

"And that's why you love me," I said. "Now, you?"

She rolled her eyes, "I don't know. Haven't been doing a lot of thinking about me today."

I nodded, "Yeah. Not a whole lot of thinking going around. Edwina must be bored."

Josie snorted a laugh, "Terribly bored."

"So," I said once more, my final push, "you're not feeling left behind, regretful, abandoned, anything like that?"

"No," she said earnestly, after a beat of consideration. "I'm not. I might have, at one point, but right now, I'm just glad for you."

"So," I asked, "there isn't anything you want?"

"What?" she asked back. "Are you trying to buy me off or something?"

"I'm giving you a chance to be selfish," I said. "No judgment. I didn't say I would or could give it to you, but if there is anything you could have right now, what would it be?"

She smiled, "Nothing. I mean, sure there are things that could make my life easier and more convenient, but really, there isn't anything I want to be different, anything I want that I can't figure out on my own."

She paused, looking sideways.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said.

"What?" I insisted.

"It's just..." she started. "I'm not saying I want it now, but someday... Someday, I might want another..."

I smirked, thinking of Emond, probably reading, as he was doing more and more lately. He was currently on a German kick.

"That is something I would have to talk to my wife about," I said.

I caught Edwina's eye as she smiled at me.

"Man," said Josie. "Not even married a day and you're already whipped."

"Oh shut up," I laughed. "I'm sure she might just be happy if we did. The first is working out pretty well, for everyone."

"True," said Josie. "And hell, maybe she would be more inclined I asked her to joined us."

Okay, so, it took me a second to really understand what she had just said. To be fair, when she had suggested we have another child, I mostly assumed she was talking about artificial insemination. Mostly. Now, a very different scenario played through my mind. I looked up, just in time to she Edwina's thoughtful and sultry look. I went a little weak in the knees.

Both girls laughed, loudly, and I was pretty sure I was a heretofore undiscovered shade of red. They were getting along far too well. This was going to get bad for me...

The procession continued. I danced once with Katherine, who was supportive and made sure that I was content with the day. Mom wasn't going to be caught dead dancing, and Felicia didn't ask and I didn't offer. After one more dance with Edwina, during which we said nothing but basked in our mutual happiness, we finally began heading for the door. We were able to slip into side rooms to change, then rejoined the crowd. We said our goodbyes, laughing and smiling, being pelted by rice and were happier still than I think we could rightly show. We finally made it into the silver Volvo and drove down the length of road that was the Cullens' driveway.

It was a short round trip of about an hour. We talked about the ceremony a little, and about the future more. Finally, we arrived at our destination.

The guest had all left, as Alice had said they would have. The house was very nearly restored to its previous state, save for a few bits of furniture and some cloth here and there.

The Cullens had mostly cleared out too. Alice and Jasper, Emily and Rory were gone. Josie was standing by the door, with Emond. He nearly flattened me, and only because Edwina was there and held us up were we both not toppled by his enthusiastic hug.

"You're married!" he cried happily.

He turned to Edwina, "Do I call you Mom now?"

Josie's eyes went a little wide.

"If you like," said Edwina. "But maybe only in your own head when you're not phased at the same time as your mother. That might be a little confusing."

He grinned and she grinned back. Josie snorted a laugh and shook her head as she looked away.

"We're going to stay nearby," said Emond, "like Katherine and Emanuel. We're here if you need us."

"Okay," I said, more to Josie than him, "thank you."

"Three days?" she asked.

I nodded, "Three days. Maybe less."

Edwina took me up to her room. A second bed had been placed in the only space the room really had left. It looked like one you would find in a hospital, and it was set up with a few stands that normally suspend IV bags. On the small tray table next to the bed was a small cooler. Beside it were kits that I'd seen too many times before for placing IVs, but there were many more than I'd ever seen. Katherine was standing there, patient and polite, looking somehow out of place standing to one side not wearing scrubs, her hands folded with her in her usual casual home clothing.

"So," I said, my voice trembling from nerves, though I didn't think I was feeling particularly nervous, "how're we doing this, Doc?"

She smiled, "It is very simple. I have procured phenobarbital, and will, with your permission, induce a short coma."

"No," I said immediately.

She nodded easily, but Edwina looked instantly anxious.

"The pain is-"

"Necessary," I said, looking into her eyes. "I don't make this decision lightly. I won't cheapen it by trying to limit my price for becoming what I wish to be."

"You aren't purchasing this," she said. "You don't need to pay a price in pain to value happiness. It isn't necessary."

I took a deep breath, taking her hands in each of mine.

"I know you are afraid, Wife," I said, trying not to smile and spoil my serious tone. "We get to have this experience once. Would you be gone for it?"

She shook her head, "I won't be the one in pain."

"Exactly," I said. "It is my pain, and my choice."

Leaning in, I gently kissed her cheek.

"I love you," I said. "My pain, and you're inability to absolve me of it, does not mean you're worth any less to me. I married you because I love you, and I choose you, and for no other reason. Okay?"

She took a deep breath and smiled, "Okay."

I turned back to Katherine, "Okay, so no coma. What's next?"

She gestured, "I have a number of intravenous needles. We will set them up, four in each leg and four in each arm, and two on your neck. When we open the valves, wide open, I will inject you with this."

To say that the needle she pulled out was large is like saying Edwina was pretty. I wasn't sure they made a larger syringe. It was full of a grayish liquid. Once the cooler was open, I could see units of the same liquid, the same sort of bags they normally kept blood in.

"So," I said, looking at my wife, "you won't be biting me?"

She actually laughed.

"Not as such," she said, "no. I figured that this would be better for all concerned."

"But," I said, trying to put my feelings into words. "It's like... This is your last chance..."

"To kill you for your blood?" she said jokingly. "Yep. I thought we would just avoid that."

"No," I said, looking away. I stepped closer to her. "For you, to have me, in this way too. It's your last chance to taste my blood."

"I've tasted your blood," she said, her smile slipping a bit.

"But," I said, "not by choice."

"I wouldn't. Ever," she said, starting to look halfway torn between angry, sad, and scared. "It isn't a choice you could survive."

"I trust you," I said easily.

"Ben," she said, cajolingly.

I looked her dead in the eyes.

"Edwina," I said firmly, as firmly as I spoke my vows to her. "You are a vampire. You drink blood. You know how good tasting my blood would be. And you can do it, here and now, the right way, with my permission, in control, helping me to pass into our life together. You should do it, not to give in to your hunger, but so you can experience not giving in. It's a choice. It always has been. If you say no, I will get on that table and we will do it your way. Or, you could say yes, and we could face your biggest fear since the moment you met me, together."

She kissed me. Hard. Like I might have been bruised it was so hard. The kiss broke before I did.

"I love you so damned much it scares me," she breathed.

"I know the feeling," I said, tracing her ear with a finger, my hands in her hair.

I stripped to my boxers and undershirt. They laid me down, and administered the IVs, leaving my neck be. They exchanged a look and Katherine smiled and nodded, exiting the room.

Edwina moved onto the bed with me. She came to straddle my hips, but the feeling felt so very unsexy that it was a bit disconcerting. She placed a hand on my chest, just over my heart.

"I'm killing you," she said quietly.

I felt myself want to protest, to deny, to resist, to make it untrue, before I realized that she was. She wasn't stating a fear; she was feeling my heartbeat because what she was doing was going to end it. Perfect recollection or no, this was not a thing that was going to continue much longer.

I looked at her, a simple smile on my lips. She smiled too, but I think it had less to do with what her eyes saw and more to do with what her hand felt. I wasn't afraid.

I gasped as her teeth sank cleanly into me. I hadn't imagined it was so easy a thing to do, how resilient my skin truly wasn't. She held me, but it was a steadying thing, more a caress than a bond. The pull of her mouth upon me was powerful, a surging draw that was greater than my considerations could contain. Even in this, the act that she so abhorred, she was exceptional.

And then, the pain began.

I remembered this. It wasn't a conscious memory, so much as an animal one. It was deeper than my mind, as though it was stored in my body rather than my brain, as though it were so primal that even a more primitive, primate version of myself, lacking sentience, would understand.

The instant it touched my thoughts, a rush of sense memories came back, buried deep, as though to keep them safely away from me, so potent in their recollection that they might damage me. Even now, I recalled the pain that touched me in just the beginnings of the change, and I wanted to strangle myself for my own selfish stupidity.

And then, Edwina pulled back. With a series of nearly imperceptibly fast motions, she opened the IVs and then, with the precision of an expert medical practitioner, she injected me with the syringe, in my heart.

I thought I understood pain. I thought I knew hardship. I though that I was strong enough to get through this, was prepared for what was to come.

Man, I was so fucking stupid.

On a scale from one to ten, this exploded the scale, the earth, burned civilization to the ground and butchered every member of the human race for ever creating such an arrogant, ignorant idiot such as myself for ever thinking this would be possible, that I might be prepared for this. I didn't care from drugs, or for a coma; I would willing die to make this pain stop. An endless eternity of nothingness, bereft of all my life that I had yet to experience, was a welcome alternative to one more perceptible instant of this pain.

I understood why Edwina didn't want me with her when she had gone through this; if she felt even a millionth of a percent of this pain, I would rather die than endure reflecting this pain on her.

I lost myself. There really wasn't any me in my body for a time. I writhed and, though I had been determined not to, I screamed. It didn't help. In fact, I felt my voice go, my vocal cords rip, and their pain was somehow added to the mix, and still, I screamed.

Time seemed to resist flowing, as though the sands of time had congealed to a thick paste, flowing with all the speed and readiness of solid glass. And yet, it did flow. It passed at a crawl, with entire epochs transpiring between the space of each second, but they passed.

Edwina was there, which might have been the hardest part, other than the pain. Her witness made it real, made it undeniable, made it more than an illusion or some bad dream. At first, she held my hand. Then she held my hand when I let her. Then she endured my abuse.

In my most horrible moments, I never believed that I would have been capable of doing what I did to her. Before the bags were empty, she kept my thrashing from dislodging any of my needles. After that, she didn't stop me from doing anything. I used the IV stands first, striking her with them until my hands could no longer take the jarring, often after they were bent and misshapen. When that wouldn't work, I used my fists, which I was pretty sure resulted in a broken bone in my hand before she stopped me doing that. So, I spout insults upon her. I cast about for the most hateful, hurtful words I could imagine, and I screamed them at her so that they were all but intelligible. I can't even believe the heartlessness I found in my pain, but I became the most selfish and unconscionable creature to ever walk the earth.

And, time passed. I got tired, not just with the exertions of my body, which were extreme, despite my lack of motion, but in the need for sleep. I wanted, longed, for the end of this day, the division between what was and what was to come, the escape of blissful unconsciousness. But it didn't come, and it never would again.

I didn't recall the light returning. I didn't remember when I stopped screaming. But at some point in the mid-afternoon, I noticed that I wasn't screaming. I still shook, still writhed, but I didn't cry out. I contained my pain within myself. It didn't take long for me to understand the difference.

Something had changed. Was changing. My mind was not the same. I am becoming something new, different. I was able to perceive myself with a greater capacity. My senses were no different, but where I had once dismissed a majority of what my body saw, heard, felt, smelt, tasted, and otherwise sensed, I can not now process all of it, easily and in detail. And I am able to separate it, analyze it, dissect it. I recognize more, understand more, can correlate and deduce more.

I feel myself differently. Before, my body was who I was, but now, it is me but more, a tool, an instrument, useful and vital but divisible, distinguishable, a part but also apart. The pain is no less, but the mind I have is large enough not to be drowned by it, complex enough that I could perceive around it. I can sense it, tabulate it and analyze it, while still having enough thought to sense the world around me.

Edwina is with me. She is still beside me, close enough for me to feel her presence but still with enough distance that I can have space if that is what I want. Also, I get the sense that she wants space, room enough to act if necessary, to restrain or to move, to protect me. I realize in that moment too that she is protecting herself. Soon, I will be capable of hurting her.

And then, my world begins to grow. My eyes remain closed, but can start to recognize the world around me. Smells that were once dull and vague become sharp and full of explanation. Cloth becomes cotton and dye and detergent and human sweat, which becomes human sweat of a teenage boy, deodorant, no cologne, washed his hair with shampoo about twenty-six hours ago, when he last showered, used body wash, and hasn't eaten in nearly a day. Ninety-seven point six percent of a day, to be precise. He is also starting to smell like a vampire.

I realize that none of the Cullens' clothing or bedding smells like laundry detergent because, of course, they never seem to use any clothing or such twice. I realize that the bed we are not currently lying on is composed of wood, stained a polished, and metal, coated in some black coating, similar to cast iron. I know that no one other than Katherine, Alice, Emanuel, and Edwina ever come into this room regularly, though I can smell traces of the rest of the family easily enough, just from general air flow.

Slowly, I start to hear open space. Just from the echoes of our breaths and my heart beating, I can hear the physical layout of the room. I can hear what objects absorb sound and in what way they do it. I hear how empty air reverberates and how surfaces reflect sound. Soon, I am pretty sure I could negotiate the room with my eyes closed just as well as I could with them open.

That night, I discover that I am about to comprehend time passing. Regardless of what I am thinking or trying to understand about the world around me, there exists a part of me that exact marks the passage of time, and while I would need to know the exact length to modulate the span of a second, I am certain that I will never lose track of time again.

Without a word, somewhere near halfway through the night, my eyes still closed, I began to move. It is the hardest, most painful expression of my body and will that I had experienced to date. Slowly and fiercely, though moving with the utmost care and smooth precision of movement, I lift Edwina from the bed as I stand. I feel what few needles were still in me pull away, and even so, every motion is like running barb wire through my muscle tissue. And pressure upon my skin is like being crushed by searing hot plates. All friction against my skin is like rubbing a series of razor blades. And yet, I take my wife and myself and move us to her bed, to what will be our bed. She strokes my cheek, and her skin somehow feel lovely cold and uncomfortable warm at the same time, a sensation that is practically molten pleasure compared to my pain. I wish that I could say to do it again, but I am afraid that trying to speak will result in more screaming.

My world expanse, my senses no longer limited by the walls. I begin to hear wind on the roof and against the walls of the house, people within so clearly that I begin to recognize them by their steps, and soon even those outside the house are known to me. Emond and Josie are in their apartment, though only Emond is asleep. Josie seems to be in her bed, trying to get comfortable but not sleeping. Katherine is in her office, doing something on a computer. Emanuel is in his studio, working on something involving large paper. Blueprints would be my guess. Other than that, we have the house and surrounding area to ourselves.

Occasionally, Edwina whispers something. She is answering thoughts, letting Katherine or Emanuel know how she is doing and how she thinks I'm doing. I get the impression that I am progressing quickly, that the large amount of venom has helped speed things along.

That morning, I feel things starting to shift. My body relaxes in a strange sort of way, straightening and lengthening. Muscles that were knotted and tense seem to slacken smoothly, and I can feel my body starting to change in a new way. It is as though much has been going on underneath, beyond my senses, but now, muscle and bone have started to finish their work, and I can start to move again, with much more limited pain. The pain of transformation is still strong in me, but my body is settling into a neutral state, even and truly still, a vampire stillness.

My mind continues to expand, and I realize that every instance of reality that I feel is being tabulated, analyzed, and stored away for me, should I need it again. My mind is so much more than it was. Before, holding four or five unfamiliar numbers at a given time was hard. Now, I mind is capable of taking an elaborate series of number or information, find an optimal pattern to condense the necessary information, and store it, in a way I find most useful. I find myself wanting to read up on digital compression to see if what patterns I'm seeing my mind utilize are being used or if I can create a new form of software that might be useful in the world at large. Then, I start denoting my pain, truly trying to understand it, wondering how I might use this information in the future. I suddenly understand curiosity in the truest sense, for how could you not be amazed when you are the truest version of yourself, stripped of your systemic imperfections and left with only knowledge and the ability to glean still more knowledge?

And then suddenly, something else changes. The burning begins to recede from my fingers and toes, my heart beginning to race quickly.

"So soon?" asked Edwina. "Even I wasn't done that quickly."

Alice appears. I can tell it is her by her gate and by her scent, oddly. Somewhere in my memories, my vampire mind has made some sense from the now dull, ephemeral vagaries of my once human mind. They are so dull and distant and imprecise, I don't particularly like recalling them. And yet, my memories of everything that has happened to me since coming to Forks, especially that of Edwina, are so important to me, I cannot lose anything of them. I begin digging through the vestiges of my old brain, sorting through memories I cannot stand to leave without indelible recollections of, and burn them into my new brain with all the focus and deliberation I can determine. It takes less than three seconds to get everything I truly want, then finally, I realize that Alice is here, still, the small eternity of those three seconds not shifting time forward in reality in the least, and she is bearing, naturally, clothes. Edwina and she dress me in jeans and a casual shirt, something simple and feeling so interesting against my skin. I am trying to capture the pattern of the stitching through touch alone when I feel Edwina nearly step out of reach, and my hand finds hers, and while I don't grip it hard, she definitely is stuck and stayed by my grip.

"That's going to take some getting used to," she says, smiling.

"Just wait," says Alice. "We will be out here when you're ready."

She had spoken to me. The direction she was looking, and intonation of her voice, her posture; no doubt, no misunderstanding. This is my life, now. Knowing and understanding and... pain.

I feel it starting to withdraw, slowly, by cells at a time, from my extremities inwards. However, the burn in my throat remains. My heart beats faster still, faster than it ever had as a human. I can follow the rate, gauge it. Seventy-three seconds, even with the accelerating rate, and it will be over. Slowly, with all my will, I draw Edwina's face to mine. With the final vestiges of my humanity falling away, I cradle her hand and her face. With my last human breath, I speak my last human words, my throat still somehow rough.

"I love you," I say.

The pain, all but the new burning of my dry throat, races inward, into my humming heart. It burns a high crescendo, begging for me to react, to writhe under the sensation. But, I do not. I am still, and at last, my heart grinds into that same stillness. I am complete. And I open my new vampire eyes.


	11. Chapter 10: Rebirth (Benjamin)

Benjamin

Her eyes are different. The slightest rims of coppery orange that had been forming around her pupils are gone again. She has had human blood again, my blood. It will make her strong. Seeing her face with these eyes is an experience unlike any a human mind could truly appreciate. The shine of glittering light that refracts off her skin in the sun is present, but subdued, lighter, something a human would never see. I can measure the symmetry of her face, find every golden ration, practically calculate the mathematics of her beauty. I can focus on any aspect of it, any detail, and find myself slipping, wanting to dedicate an immeasurable length of time, simply bearing witness to the existence of that singular aspect of her form. I could lose myself forever in finding the perfect words, the finest calculations, to describe the facets in the gradient of the color in her eyes. I want to learn every language just for that alone. I could stay here forever, looking upon her, still, onto the heat death of the universe, and it would be a happier life than I would have hoped to ever have.

And yet, I can move. I can speak. And I can feel.

I choose to feel for her. I am glad to be prone, for if I had not been, I would have been floored. Where does that word come from? I will know when I learn every word that has ever been recorded.

I pull myself back to the present, just as weighted by emotion as I was a moment before. With this renewed capacity for sensation and understand, it had not occurred to me that I would have a greater capacity for feeling as well. I never imagined that I would have a deeper, wider, magnified, more poignant passion for, more amplified tantalization from, more powerful love for my wife. But now...

I choose everything carefully. My inflection, my tone, my volume, my care. When I speak my words, I might as well have taken a human week to pick and practice them.

"I love you," I say, my first vampire words fittingly the same as my last human ones, with all my immortal power behind them.

Her expression shifts. I can see where the individual muscles pull and relax, how they shift and move. Her expression goes from awed to moved and awed. My response is immediate and unavoidable.

Her back is against the far wall. She can see me come at her, no doubt measure where my momentum will carry her, yet she does nothing to avoid it, perhaps can do nothing without what she might consider risk. Given the force and speed of my motion, I know that we could have continued through the wall, perhaps without slowing as we would miss any structural reinforcement. And yet, with my skill and mastery of self, we make only enough sound that an immortal would hear.

She gasps at just how quickly I move, my sudden nearness. I know that I am unable to not experience her with this new body, with these new senses. I look down upon her, wishing to tear away all the troublesome clothing, but I linger, wanting to savor the moment.

I lean in and touch her face. She is warm! She is hard, but not to me. She is soft. And I can feel her! I can feel the little bumps, the slight indentations that exist between cells. Their placement is flawless, each perfectly aligned, each even and creating the smooth, curving plans of her skin. I can feel each one, feel the connective issues underneath, the muscle underneath that, so fine are my finger's senses that I can do so without pressing hard. I can even make out a few details of the bones beneath. I find myself wanting to know if every cell of her is equally flawless and immediately decide that my lips and tongue are far more sensitive than my fingers. I begin kissing her neck, doing so with a speed that elicited a tiny squeak from her, so quiet that I doubt even the others in the house heard it. I begin kissing each cell, one at a time, quickly, but lingering just enough to sense each individually in turn.

She makes little sounds, part moan, part groan, part whimper, part quaver, part gasp, part cry. I sense her with ever part of myself, except for my eyes which are too close to show me anything useful, and I am sure that while she is holding back, she is not unwilling.

I consider a thousand different words to speak, weighting each, settling for, "You're warm. I didn't expect you to be warm."

I grip her hips, much the same way I did when she was mortal. She gives as she did then, but differently. She is soft yet firm, stronger, certainly, but not quite as strong as me, for I had more human blood in me than she did. We are so much more resilient now, and I feel no sense of fatigue anywhere in me. There are... so very many possibilities here.

There is a quiet throat clearing from downstairs. Edwina makes a sound; protest, frustration, conciliatory, distress, ill humor.

"Okay," she says, loud enough that they can hear. "Alright."

She puts a hand against my chest, and despite it seeming like the dumbest idea in the world, I step back.

"There will be time," she says. "There will be time for everything."

I never thought I could be impatient for forever.

I look at her and momentarily get lost in her eyes.

Suddenly, she looks rather worried, and as the door opens, everything changes.

He moves like a warrior. He is scarred from at least eighty-three battles, from what I can see on his exposed neck, arms, and face. And he is coming at me, pointed at my flank. I am in danger. She is in danger.

Preemptive attack is my best chance. He has survived at least the eighty-three plus battles. He very well could win this one.

He is ready. He seems to have been expect this. He sidesteps me and moves around me, leveraging my motion into a different direction, towards a window that I pass through easily in a shower of tiny flecks of glass. I track the ground as I fly through the air, and once I turn to see where I will land, I twirl my body so as to land with as much ease and efficiency as I can. I tap the ground seven times, both palms twice, twice with the left foot, and once with my right, arresting much of my momentum. When I finally land on my feet, I hardly skid a foot before coming to a stop, already facing my attacker as he lands closer to the house.

I roar at him. There is no better word for it. I did not know I could make such a sound. He seems wholly unafraid. I decide that I must try something else.

I think about how I would like to fight. Brute brutality and speed won't service me here. I have fought before, in my human life. I have spent years learning to fight. The memories are vague, but I clear my mind and focus on restoring them, altering them so that they will be useful to my new body and ability. I take a stance and ready myself.

He... pauses. It is a subtle thing, something that might have been hard to catch, even by our kind, but he definitively stops for the briefest microsecond. And that's when I know that I have him. He is fast because he has experience, which led him to a preconceived notion, which allows him to function so quickly because he doesn't need to think or adapt. I just adapted.

He comes at me directly and I immediately do the same at him. I calculate his steps, see that he will be stepping with his left foot when he closes to me, which means stepping around me to the left would be unlikely. So, that's exactly what he is going to do.

I recall the way he grabbed me, using my momentum against me, and realize I can duplicate the maneuver, with a small adjustment. As we are about to meet, where he will feint right and go left, I drop. Sliding past him, he follows me with his eyes, and fast as he may be, my strength can match the efficiency of his motions. It hurts, but I manage to shoot past him, grabbing his ankle before he can slip away. With a surge of strength, I flip him into the air, his momentum used against him to spin uselessly in the air, and once there, he has lost. As fast as he may be, he has nothing to push off of, leaving him only able to twist, lost to gravity until he can get back to the ground. Before that can happen, I catch him from behind. I lock his arms in a full Nelson, my hands gripping his head at the base of his neck. I realize that here and now, I have the strength and position to remove his arms and his head from his body or crush his torso with ease.

"Whoa," says Emily, coming to a stop just out of easy reach, trying not to startle me.

I understand that they don't know that I am conscious, that I am not a person driven entirely on instinct and fear. Granted, I did lose myself as soon as Jasper entered the room, but I am perfectly fine now. I am no more like to injure him than I am to injure Edwina.

"Easy," says Emily. "No one is going to hurt you."

"I don't understand," says Jasper, and I can tell he is not incredulous because I beat him.

And suddenly, I wonder if I can beat them both.

Then, my son appears.

He is in his wolf form, and he looks beautiful. There is a vampire's grace in him, his fur shining with the same subtle shimmer as our skin, yet more subdued. His golden eyes are truly a byproduct of drinking animal blood, like the Cullens. He sees me, and his head raises up, giving him an elevated view of the scene. He looks surprised and confused and isn't sure how to proceed.

I laugh. I let go of Jasper. Emily cracks forward like a whip, coming to grab me, but finds herself being dragged as I move towards my son, completely ignoring her. After a moment, she let's go, looking shocked and a bit disgruntled.

I smile at my boy, my little man, and his tongue comes lolling out in a doggy smile. He phases back, and I take him up, hugging him carefully, firmly yet not hard.

"Dad," he says and I pull back to look at him more. As I do, I see Josie loping up. She sees me and nearly trips over her own feet. Stopping, she just stares.

"Mom," says Emond enthusiastically. "Come on! It's Dad!"

She shakes her head, as though to clear it and jog her memory. She phases back and walks towards me. She is a gorgeous woman. She does not come close to Edwina in terms of beauty or appeal, but even now, I can easily understand what drew me to her, to begin with.

"Ben?" she asks, as though careful not to break the spell and turn me into the monster she long feared I would become.

"Grrrr!" I say playfully, grabbing up Emond and tossing him high into the air, nearly as high as the house.

"I'm a monster!" I roar dramatically, catching him laughing and roll him to the ground, tickling him and poking him.

After a moment, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I smile over at Josie. She is looking at my face, hard, a little confused, and all overlaying a fear that she is trying not to feel or even acknowledge.

"Ben?" she asks again, her voice reluctant, trying not to hold to hope that I might be what I appear to be.

"It's me," I say gently. "It's still me, Jos."

Emond gets up and walks back from us, putting his back to Edwina, who walks to him, putting her arms about his thin shoulders and kisses the top of his head.

I keep looking at Josie as she works through the fear and the concern thick upon her. She looks close to tears as I hug her to me.

"You're still you," she says. "I mean, I thought... I just... I didn't know that it would still feel like you were still... here. And you."

I swallow, and the action sweeps a bit of scent into my nose. I realize that I haven't been inhaling the last few moments. The scent now is harsh, surprising, biting. Instinctively, I inhale, to get more information about the offending smell and quickly wish that I had remained unbreathing.

"Ugh!" I protest dramatically, pulling back from her, recognizing the smell of canine intermingled in the stench. "Is that you?!"

"Oh shut up," she laughs. "Like you smell like a lovely daisy yourself!"

"You both smell fine," says Emond, rolling his eyes.

I turn back to my best friend and kiss her cheek.

"Bleh!" she pulls away from me. "Now, I'm going to reek all day."

I glance at the house and catch sight of Alice as she walks towards the edge of the porch. She sees my eyes and smiles. I return it and promptly throw Josie in the creek.

Everyone laughs, even Josie, once she gets her feet under her, except Jasper.

"This isn't right," he says. "This doesn't make any sense."

Alice comes over and takes his hand.

"What?" I ask. "What did I do?"

Edwina gives me a knowing look, an expectant look.

"You are you," she says, smile. "As always, you are exceptional, as much a vampire as you were a human."

"See?" says Alice. "Happy now?"

"No," she says, still smiling.

Alice rolls her eyes and Edwina addresses my shocked expression.

"I still cannot sense your thoughts," she says.

Emond laughs. I am suddenly splattered with water, and turn to see Josie shaking herself dry.

"Great," I sigh, "now I will smell like creek and wet dog all day."

"How are you doing this?" demands Jasper. I stare at him.

"You shouldn't be able to do this," he says. "Why aren't you burning with thirst?"

I am, I realize. My throat is... dry? Desiccated? Parched? Scalding? Burning? Searing? It almost reminds of the pain of transformation.

"Oh," I say, touch my neck, as though to draw the heat out of me.

"We should hunt," says Edwina.

"Can I come?" asks Emond.

I consider, "It's alright with me."

The vampires all look a little nervous.

"What?" I ask.

"You've never hunted before," says Alice, "so you wouldn't know, but it might not be safe for Emond."

I look at her face and see that she is correct.

"Hey," I say, reaching out and hugging my son. "Next time, bud. Let me get a handle on this first. Sound good?"

"Okay," he says, hugging me back.

"Let's go," says Edwina. She begins to run. In less than a millisecond, I am running too. I track her as she leaps the creek, and I follow.

Running is... everything. It is amazing. It isn't just the speed, which is astounding how easily I can comprehend it, quantify it, but also my perception and my instant ability. Despite the incredible speed, the world about me remains crystal clear, to the veins in the grass to the number of segments in the antennae those ants have to the number of leafs on this tree or the number of scurrying rodents in that acre. And, it all seems second nature, as simple as strolling down an even path.

Then, I smell something. I would not call it appetizing, but it has a certain draw. I can quantify it as something that is necessary if not desirable.

I slow, and Edwina does as well, approval on her face.

"What is that?" I say so that only she could hear me.

She makes an expression, a clear communication that I am capable and should figure it out myself.

I breathe deep the air and listen. The scent is familiar, similar to horse, but different. Ungulate, my brain supplies me. Deer. I can hear the beating of their hearts. Both male and female, but we aren't directly downwind, so an exact ratio is hard to tell. There is five of them. And I want them.

I nod. I know what to do. I am on the closest one, a female, and snap her neck, ending her suffering before she can ever make a sound. Her tissue is nearly nothing to my teeth, and I open her to me, taking as much of her warm wet life as I can fit my mouth around. It is not enough, not fast enough, and I suck it down in big gulps. It cools the fire of my throat, but I want more, now.

I find the nearest second one, and this time, while my kill is just as clean as before, my feeding is more efficient. I am still splattered with gore from the first as I slice a smaller cut through to a major artery in his neck, short enough to close my mouth around completely. When I drink, I do so with a constant pull, still greedy but not as frantic. And I continue. Taking down a third and forth, each a bit easier and faster than the last.

I feel full, and while I am not fully sated, the burn is now only a dull ache, forgettable and easily pushed to the back of the mind.

"Wow," Edwina says, and I turn in her exact direction, high in a tree, where I can recall hearing her leap as soon as I took down the first deer.

"That was pretty impressive," she continues, "even for our kind. We usually make a mess of things during the first feeding."

I look down at my clothing. I am sprayed with droplets of blood, but I only count thirty-four spots on me. Really, the window I smashed through has done more noticeable damage to my clothing.

Regardless, I look at her skeptically, "Impressive? How?"

She falls lightly to the ground, landing with an easy of strength and long practice.

"You see," she says, "aside from the fact that most newborn vampires are too savage to do much more than get blood in or on them, animal or otherwise, you not only are capable of thought, you learn and improve, already. Frankly, you are functioning with the skill set of a vampire decades rather than hours old. And still, you look really good doing it."

Her tone is earnest, yet slightly teasing and not the least bit suggestive. But the sound of the tease in her voice resonates in me. I realize that we have no pressing engagements or commitments. My requirements have been me, and now we are capable of doing whatever we wish.

I remember something she once said to me. My memory is slightly frayed, but I had recalled it minutes earlier, so it was still somewhat fresh to me. We had been in the nurse's office at school, and I had been skeptical of her desire to spend time with me. I remember it now as though it had happened this morning, only... better than that. I could find her exact words, and while they aren't sharp and clean like all the memories I had since my transition, they are clear enough.

"What?" she asks, my impression intent upon her. "What is it?"

"In the realm of infinite possibility," I say, the register of my voice dropping a degree, my steps graceful as I begin walking towards her, "only so many things are real likely enough to happen."

She looks slightly confused, dazed as I bite my lip, grinning at her, restraint evident in my every action.

"Of those things," I say, casting my eyes around as though I am not focusing on her, not stalking her as she almost unconsciously backs into the shade of the tree behind her, "the ones that involve me, with you, in the woods, acting in an acceptable manner, and not taking away others' rights to make their own decisions, my option aren't very limited, but still limited. Of those options, the one thing I want to do is right at the top of the list."

As I looked at her, I could see that she remembered, that she was drawing the same conclusion I was. She hadn't said it, but that day, there was something she would have rather been doing. I didn't understand it then; how could I? But now, I understand. With this mind, there was a realm of infinite possibilities she could perceive of, and one of those options would have been something like this. I am sure.

I reach into my face with my intent, and I pull away all my fear, all the habits and patterns I used to keep emotion off my face. I let what I want and what I want to do show on my face, truly, and with all it's intensities. At first, she looks surprised, then thrilled, then rather stimulated herself, then a touch afraid. I smile.

I am moving at full speed before I reach her. She squeaks, laughing as I take her into my arms, sweeping her up in the force of my traveling. I twist, the tree I would have driven her against smashing against me instead.

"Such a gentleman," she giggles as we pass through the tumbling bits raw wood, the splintering conifer no more to us than feathers. My lips find hers, and she murmurs in pleasure as I kiss her, more fiercely that I have ever kissed her. We roll, too enraptured in each other to worry about things like keeping our feet under use when moving at speeds and with forces normally reserved for vehicular collisions. We throw up dirty and crush brush and crack wood and split stones as we pass, my hands finding their way up her shirt, her quiet sounds of ecstasy music to my ears.

What clothing remind after we finally skid to a halt near a clearing comes off. We make love against the earth, under the trees, our voices loud, our works and force none too gentle. We fell at least two more trees, and perhaps five more will eventually die due to the damage we did. We broke a hill, shifting the earth, and which will likely change the erosion of the surrounding landscape for years to come.

I had known that every single time Edwina had touched me before that day, she had needed to be careful. But I had no idea, hadn't understood that everything she had don't with me when she immortal and I was mortal, to her, could at most be classified as gentle. I had no idea the thin range of interaction that had limited us to. And when we had both been mortal, we could barely scrap that range without injuring ourselves.

But now, we are free and strong and enduring. We are all but limitless in our ability to inflict every conceivable pleasure upon each other, with a precision and a magnitude beyond the imagining of our mortal counterparts. What they could think of in months or years of reflection and experience with a partner, we can conclude in seconds, if not faster. What takes them countless interactions with their significant other before they can read their responses to certain stimuli, we intuit naturally and easily. And when they are bored or injured or spent and must set their paramour aside for a time, we have no such hindrance.

It has been more than three hours before I realize that we could do this forever. Only the need for blood could ever interfere with our continuation of this, and it could be weeks before the need becomes dire. I momentarily entertain the idea of not stopping to feed, us sharing prey as our activities continue. There is too much. With the vastness of the infinite before us, which I can practically conceive of with this new mind, I wish to experience every aspect and act of delight with my wife. I know that this cannot continue, that it would not make me happy to do so; this is addiction, truly. What pull could human blood have for me when compared with this?

"I'm out of excuses," I say to Edwina.

She smiles, breaking our contact and turning to face and embrace me.

"Explain," she says. I almost continue our previous interaction, knowing we could easily multitask. However, I decide that it is rather metaphorical to stop to say what I wish.

"Before," I explain, "I had to make excuses, justification to quit doing what I wanted. I was believing the lie that what I wanted was to feed my Id, to have carnal pleasure and selfish desires all the time. I had to excuse myself from continuing, tell myself that I couldn't have or shouldn't want the articles and activities that I did. Now, I have set my rationales aside. I could do these things ostensibly without end. And yet, I know that other aspects of myself and my life would suffer if I did."

She kisses me, and these is something entirely passionless about it. It is a gift, this kiss, this lovely feeling. It doesn't have the heat, the need, and that is when I realize that we made a mistake. No; I made a mistake.

"I am at fault," I say looking at her.

"How?" she asks, touching my bare chest, looking slightly pained by my admission.

"Edwina," I say, taking her hands in mine. "Do you remember the day that I told you that I love you?"

"Vividly," she answers, looking so happy it is nearly painful not to kiss her.

"Why didn't we make love that day?" I ask.

I watch her mind think, construct, infer, and finally, conclude.

"This afternoon was about the pleasure," I say, "not me, nor you. I lost myself in the tool my body has become. As much fun as this was, I was mindless, about our bodies, not our hearts."

I touch her cheek, and I can see her let go of her desire to argue. She knows that I am right.

"You deserve better," I say, "so I won't do this again."

She looks like she is going to start arguing, but I manage to grip her lips together and hold that way until she can't help but smile.

"The next time we make love," I say, "it will be the right way."

I let go of her lips, and when she touches my face, I can feel the love in her as she does so.

"Can that be right now?" she asks, half joking desperation, and we laugh. I clutch her and our exuberant laughing dislodge us from the tree, and we spin to the ground, torqued this way and that by branches on the way down. We roll upon the earth, smiling and happy.

I stand, lifting her by her hips, high above me, and she is exultant in her glory, graceful and glowing. We move together, almost as a dance, elegant and smooth, manifesting our happiness real upon the world around us as we embrace and lift one another and bask in our own gaiety.

"So," she smiles, "this is the first day of your millennium of failure?"

I think back to my vows, grinning at her, "And the first day of our forever."

I look at her, her beauty, her form, and let go of this superficial aspect, this easily distracting exterior. I reach to my heart, find the aspects of me that knows her, that has cared for her and her happiness since the moment I saw her. I love her, and let that show upon my face, wordless peaceful, and true.

Her response doesn't matter. There was a time when I would have valued that reaction, felt good about her reciprocation, but now, it isn't important. I love her and she knows it. Even if she never showed a single sign of reciprocation or gratitude, I would still and always love her. My wife, my queen, my immortal goddess, my very Edwina.

"Race you back to where Alice left our new clothing," I say. She smiles, and we bolt.

The two piles are exactly where I expect them to be, just inside the line of trees near the creek. Modesty seems to be a thing I left behind with my mortality, but I know that Alice would abhor the idea of us not being well dressed, so placating her is the least I can do.

We walk inside, ready to reconnect with the family and share our happiness with them that I am finding in this newfound life. Everything is still, and quiet. Emanuel and Katherine are standing together, immobile, their eyes cast out into the woods. Rory and Emily are the same, looking into each others' eyes.

"What has happened?" I ask, feeling dismayed.

Emanuel turns and looks at the two of us.

"Alice has decided to leave us," he says.

I don't understand. Edwina has become still and quiet. Emanuel holds out the letter. I am at his side before he can fully extend it, having read it three times before it is settled in my hands.

 **To my family,**

 **When you read this, Jasper and I will be gone. Don't look for us. You know I will be able to avoid you indefinitely, should I choose to. I gave you the best goodbye I could. And my heart could take no more than this.**

 **Our family is in grave peril. The day that Emond returned Edwina to her humanity, he was witnessed by Imrich. He fought long and hard with himself, and it took him days to decide, but he couldn't risk breaking the law when it came to an immortal child, especially one so powerful. He went to the Volturi. The moment he decided to go, their response we certain. They are coming, in the winter, to the baseball clearing, when the snow falls for the first time in earnest. All of them. The Guard, the Matriarchs, even their Paramours, with witnesses in tow, to show how right they were in their righteous decision to end our lives. There is a** **high probability that this meeting will result in the death of at least one member of our family. I can't risk Jasper. I am sorry.**

 **Alice**

 **P.S. No really. Don't look. You have more important business to attend to.**

I refold the letter.

"How?" I ask.

"She handed it to Katherine," says Emanuel. "She said not to read it until forty minutes after she left. She said it was important. We did as she asked. We had no reason not to."

Edwina looks at me, her face lost. All of them, they look somehow lost.

"Would Alice do this?" I ask. "Would she just leave?"

"I really do not want to believe it of her," says Katherine, "t in all honesty, I have only known her for a small percentage of her life. There is still so much about them I don't know."

"Alice and Jasper were together before they joined us," says Edwina. "While the two care about us and our happiness, their first priority will always be the other."

I can relate. In all honesty, I know I have it in me to do the same if I was sufficiently afraid. I did not see what Alice had. Her fear may be totally justified. But, as I look around the room, I see that the others are heartbroken by her departure. It is almost as though by her exit, they have already given up hope. But, I almost intuit, I have not. I have faith in Alice, and the faith doesn't stop just because she is gone. There is a reason she left, I am sure of it.

I prepare to open my mouth, to say that they all must have faith in her too, to list the reasons I believe why she is still with us when I stop. This is the reaction she wanted from her family. She is gone, and they are not meant to have faith in her. But I do. If I am to have faith in her, I must have it totally. This is a divide she wants, and I must keep it to myself, for whatever reason.

"What is it?" asks Edwina. And I get it. I can know. I can understand, because my mind is safe, from Edwina, even from Auri. But that gives me something else to think about.

"You didn't know?" I ask. "Alice never thought about this at all in the time since she's seen it?"

"I was mortal when it happened," says Edwina. "Since then, she has thought exclusively of the wedding and your transformation. I..."

She looks a little sad but mostly contrite.

"I was focused on other things," she admits. "I was caught up in you, in us. I didn't think to question it."

I nod.

"So," I say, "what do we do now?"

"What can we do?" asks Rory. "We can't stand up to the guard on our own, and the entirety of the Volturi are coming here, with witnesses. We can't survive that. We have to run."

"That wouldn't do any good and you know it," says Edwina. "Delia would still be able to find us. Without Alice, we have no hope of avoiding them. And even if we did, it would be impossible to remain hidden in a group, and it would not be safe to split up. We must stay here and together."

"What can we do?" asks Emanuel, not sounding resigned but rather instructive.

"If they are gathering witness, so must we," says Edwina.

"What good will that do?" asks Emily. "If the Volturi are scrambling for a fight, us having a few more vamps on our side won't make much of a difference."

"It might," says Emanuel. "They only have to delay long enough to see the law isn't broken."

"What law?" I ask. "Why is this happening? Can someone explain exactly what is going on?"

Edwina takes my hand, and at a speed that only an immortal can hear and understand, she explains.

"The Law of the Volturi has many facets. The foremost is that of the immortal children. There was a period in which making children into vampires was very much in vogue. It was a practice that had to be discontinued, for while the resultant creatures were just as beautiful as us, yet even more endearing, they were no more reserved than any other child and never matured from the moment of their creation. They would not uphold The Law and it became a death sentence to any who created them, as it was for the original patron to the Denali vampires. He created a daughter many years ago, and it resulted in his destruction. Our cousins have had a certain respect for the Law ever since."

As she spoke, I did not feel entirely present. My mind was hard at work. Pieces were filled in, arranged, and made true. Imrich saw my son. He saw what he thought was an immortal child. He went to the Volturi. The Volturi will come here. Some of us will die.

"I saw this in Auri's mind," says Edwina. "A precursor. She wants Alice and I at her side. We are two pieces she desperately wishes to collect."

So, Edwina will live. That, at least, is fairly certain. Something heavy in me lightens. And it explains part of why Alice left. If the plan is to collect the pair and half are not here, the plan loses some of its constancy, its cohesion. But, if our plan is to succeed, we need a plan as well, one with as much preparation. We will need to match them, counter, and be ready.

"We need to be prepared," I say. They all look at me.

"We need to give ourselves the best shot at ending this without conflict," I go on. "For that, we need information and our own witnesses."

"What sort of information?" asks Rory.

"The useful kind," I say. "What do we know about the Volturi? Where can we find out more if we need to?"

The Cullens look at each other.

"Elodia," says Katherine. "She used to be a member of the Guard."

"Elodia from the Denali vampires?" I ask. I try to remember her, but my muddled muddy human memories are murky at best. I hadn't been paying much attention to her. At the moment, nothing about this room escapes my immortal senses. I am certain I could draw a real to life, stereoscopic rendering of everything my eyes could see, along with a time-stamped transcript of everything being said and vector data on every single sound in the area, to say nothing of what I was feeling and smelling.

"And the witnesses?" asks Emanuel.

I find his face. He is concerned, worried about his family, hoping that this can be resolved peacefully, but is not very hopeful.

"They will have witnesses," I say. "We must as well. If anything, it might intimidate them, slow them down, give us time to convince them we aren't the threat they believe us to be."

"But we are, though," says Emily. "We have a half vampire, half wolf changeling who can reverse immortality and who knows what else. They may be coming here for an immortal child, but it won't slow them down when he's not one. He's still dangerous to them, maybe the most dangerous creature they have ever faced. And he's on our side! There's no way this won't come to a fight."

I don't like the way she says all this, as though the idea is thrilling.

"We have to try," says Katherine. "We must find witnesses, anyone who is willing to come. But we must make our requests clear. We cannot expect anyone to fight with us if it should come to that."

She sounds less hopeful than her husband.

I would have stood up if I wasn't standing already.

"Are we splitting up?" I ask.

"Yes," says Emanuel, "but I think it would be best if you remain here."

"Why?" I ask, my voice becoming louder.

"Because you weren't even born yesterday," says Emanuel, a bit of humor in his voice.

Edwina chuckles, "To be honest, he really is handling himself remarkably well. He would likely handle himself as well as Jasper around humans, maybe better."

Josie walks in.

"What's going on?" she asks, sounding worried.

I gave her an expression that conveyed I would tell her in a moment. I had to increase its apparentness twice before she was able to understand.

"Emond will need protecting," says Katherine. "If we do find witnesses, we will need to send them here. We will need Edwina here to play ambassador, especially with so many potential problems that could happen. She could use your help, Ben. And yours, Jocelyn. We need all the help we can get."

I note that he didn't mention that we are currently the two strongest members of the family and that Josie is experienced in vampire killing. If any witness decided to cause trouble or threatened my son or this family, we would be up to the task of stopping them.

They all run upstairs, and I have enough clarity to see that they are careful, the speed and force they are exerting able to damage their home. They all move with grace and purpose but distribute their movements and forces so that they don't strain any part of the framework or foundation too hard. Quickly, they are clothed for long distances on foot, and after some rather brief hugs and few words, they exit their home, leaving upon their decided routes.

Josie looks at me and then Edwina.

"They're coming," she says. "Vampires are coming for our boy."

"Yes," I affirm needlessly.

She nods, "What are the odds like?"

I know that I don't want to damage the opinion of Alice, but this is what she expected, I am sure of it. So I snort and say, "Alice left."

Josie blinks. Then she shakes her head.

"I'm not giving up hope," she said.

"Nor should you," says Edwina, taking her hand and mine. "We might get through this."

I nod. But somehow, I can't help but think that even if Alice really is doing all she can to get us through this in one piece, she might still be right; we may get through this, but that doesn't mean all of us will.


	12. Chapter 11: Testimony (Edwina)

Edwina

I wish that I could say that Ben's immortality was less frustrating that his mortality. In truth, a majority of his previous detriments are now absent of their treachery. His scent, which had been the most appealing thing about him, is no less appealing, but it now lacked the inspiration for death and loss of control. He frailty is gone, and while I enjoyed being so soft, so gentle with him, the necessity is gone and being rough with him has its own qualities I am learning to thrill for. I no longer fear for his life or his safety, at least when it comes to day to day activities, and his ability to thrill at anything his new vampire eyes see and ears hear inspires my own renewed wonder at the world about me. Everything about him has been shifted to extremes, and all things I could have asked for have come to pass.

Save one; the most infuriating and insanity inducing aspect of his person remains and plagues me so much, I am sure he has noticed.

He smiles, looking out into the night, the expression blooming upon his face, with the steady, exactly even pace of the creature he now is, beautiful and perfect.

The effect the venom has on us varies subtly. In Ben's case, the symmetry of his face remained intact, but the slightly offset proportions shifted with his transition. He is now technically and classically beautiful, and not just aesthetically and objectively so. But the difference means little to me. He is my Ben, my husband, my forever, and he has always been beautiful to me.

"I don't think you will be able to bore a hole in my head," he says jokingly. Of course, he knows where my thoughts are at. He was insightful beyond reason before. Now, he is almost as good as knowing my thoughts as I am of knowing anyone else's, with one exception.

"I am not trying to bore a hole," I say, trying very hard not to pout. "I was simply trying harder than usual to listen."

His smile becomes utterly gorgeous as he looks at me, and I have to fight very hard not to lose myself in gazing upon him.

"You're splitting hairs, Wife," he says and kisses my cheek. Feeling the resilience of his flesh actually moving mine as he bestows this simple delight upon me makes something inflate in me, something fluttering and almost warm that makes me want to return the favor with interest. I am considering asking if we could find another spot to renew our previous deforesting activity when I feel the vague touches of thoughts coming closer.

 _-must be a logical explanation for this. Not that I don't enjoy the scenery, but there is only so many hours one can stand being in a car before it becomes somewhat tedious._

 _Ah, perhaps her beau ran off with his groomswoman. The two seemed rather close after all. That would be an interesting turn of events..._

 _Perhaps this has something to do with Imrich._

"They are almost here," I say, more for the benefit of Emond and Josie than Ben. He can see me so well now. The way he keeps staring at me... I feel the fluttering again.

 _I'm scared, Mom,_ thinks Emond.

I bring myself around and focus.

"It will be alright," I say, not taking my eyes of my husband. Josie shakes herself, somewhat subdued by her own fears as well.

 _I wish Alice was here,_ thinks Josie, and this thought is enough to get me to look away from my husband, shocked.

Josie sits up on the couch, pulling her shirt straight.

 _Oh bite me,_ she thinks, trying to hide her smile. _I'm allowed to miss your bratty sister._

I smirk at her. Finally, someone who sees her for what she is.

I haven't forgiven Alice. She left. Granted, I have given up too, running off to Italy and all. But I was wrong then and she is wrong now. I gave up on myself. She gave up on us. I can't abide that. It is wrong, truly, and I can't let that stand.

Ben's hand curving about my hip shocks me, so drawing is the sensation. But quickly the sudden shift turns comforting as he pulls me to him.

"She will come back," he says, "after... I know she will. It doesn't help to dwell."

He is right, and I kind of want to shove him for it. Stupid insightful beautiful boy!

The car makes it's way up our drive. It will be stopped in less than a minute.

"What do you think?" Ben asks me.

"You, Josie, and Emond here," I say. "I will greet them. I will bring them to you or call you to them, depending on how this goes down."

The expression he lays upon me rocks me to my core. Totally trust. I feel almost unworthy. But he chose me. I can only be grateful.

He walks over to where Josie and Emond have situated themselves on the couch. He sits to the other side of Emond, and as they put comforting hands upon their child, I don't miss the hands that interlock to comfort each other. At one time, this might have made me jealous or uneasy. Now, I am glad that they do have each other. It makes this easier for them. As for me, I cannot worry about worry or doubt at the moment. I have a job to do.

The car comes to a full stop. Almost immediately, Teodor, Kristof, Carlos, and Elodia get out, the key not even out of the ignition before latches are unlatching. I skim their thoughts and find that they are not in high spirits, but are dutifully resigned to being back here without explanation. Only Teodor seems the slightest bit pleased to be back, and he once again entertains the idea that Ben is gone. The rest can merely muster being agreeable, and that is about the best I can hope for.

"Please, come in," I say, opening the door and stepping well enough back for all of them to gather just inside the door. Elodia immediately catches wind that something is not as it appears. She alone recognizes that my actions, while seemingly inviting, blocks them from immediately entering deeper into the house. Carlos notices her change in mood and is wary, but follows her lead, not understanding but trusting both her and me. The other two have no idea that anything has changed. Kristof closes the door behind them as they enter, politely and unworried.

"This seems a bit dire," says Elodia, already wondering if this was such a good idea to return without question.

"Truly," I agree. "I have news and a confession to make; understand that while I make no expectation of what you must do, I do ask that you fully hear me out before you make any decision."

Immediately, Kristof and Teodor are concerned. Their concerns about confessions had them thinking of the law and the Volturi. It can't be helped. I must be straight with them. Elodia is equally concerned, but not ready to leave just yet. It is Carlos that truly brings the mood around.

"We are all family here," he says graciously. "You have our presence and our ears. We will listen and stand with you, as we should."

The other three relax, especially Elodia.

I nod, "Firstly, I must inform you that our family has split.-"

Teodor has a moment of hope.

"-Alice and Jasper has left us."

The shock that cascades through the group is almost a physical force.

"They what?" asked Carlos.

"They would never..." says Kristof.

"What has happened?" asks Elodia.

I find that speaking the words was harder than I supposed it would be. I feel the emotion choke me. For a moment, I can see in Josie's eyes that Ben is considering coming to me when he hears my distress. I pull myself together.

"Elodia," I say, and she focuses completely upon me. "Was there ever a time when the Volturi ever came out in force, when they came down upon a powerful family, but let a member or two live and join the guard?"

She looks at me with increasing fear, anger, and understanding. She can think of at least three incidents when this has happened in which this pattern was noticeable, and at least six other times when it was possible. It was a pattern she hadn't wanted to notice, didn't want to admit she had been a part of. With her ability to sense the powers of other immortals, she had searched far and wide for them, or mortals who had innate gifts strong enough to be manifest while still human. And she had seen what had happened when she found someone who was a member of a family or a pair. It had only been a matter of time before someone committed a fatal crime. She understands the pattern, and seeing it from this angle, she is forced to see just how tyrannical what they had done was. And, she sees what is happening and why Alice left.

"I did," she says. "What crime have you committed?"

I shake my head, "We have committed no crime, for what has happened here is unique to our history. It was not something expressly forbidden, nor does it have any degree of precedence."

"Wait," says Kristof, "back up. For those of us who don't read minds, tell us what has happened."

"Imrich witnessed," I begin, but couldn't finish.

"What?" demands Teodor.

"Imrich did this?" asks Elodia. "Why?"

I raise my hand, forestalling all questions, demanding their attention, as I knew I must.

"When Imrich came into this area," I explain, "he witnessed something that he misunderstood. His actions were understandable but wrong, and it has now placed our entire family at risk."

"What did he witness?" demands Carlos, starting to grow tired of my dodge. Now is the time.

"You agreed to observe," I say, "and I will hold you to that. What you are about to witness is, as I said, unprecedented. Remember that."

I turn, "Ben."

He stands, taking his son's hand. Emond is scared by determined. He looks at his father who has nothing but an open and accepting smile for him. He looks to his mother, who looks more like him, afraid but willing. This gives him as much strength as his father. They walk towards us, into the entryway.

I can't help but admit, Teodor seeing Ben for the first time is something I will remember with slightly vindictive glee for the rest of my forever. He sees Ben, immortal and glorious, and his first reaction is utter defiance. He sees how beautiful he is, how strong and graceful, and the expression he wears upon seeing me, and all hope for him ever winning me back is totally and irrevocably dashed. And then, he is, like the rest are, looking upon Emond.

He is rather young for an immortal, in their eyes, just around pubescence now. His muscles, lean and corded, are just starting to become something more than well defined. The barest hint of stubble is starting to grace his face, and he is starting to get some height, his head just past his father's shoulders. He is no less glorious and appealing to the immortal senses than he was the day of his birth.

"Hm," says Kristof. "He is rather young for an immortal. But I don't see how Imrich could have mis-"

Then, he sees it. The details have started to pick themselves out in his mind. Standing between his parents, it wouldn't take long for any immortal to see the resemblances, and it is somewhat ironic that Emond resembles Benjamin the vampire more closely than he did Ben the human.

He steps back but says nothing. Elodia understands next, and she becomes very still, which pushes Carlos to see it as well. Teodor is too caught up in his feelings concerning Ben to get more than the fact that he doesn't get it and he isn't willing to admit it aloud.

No matter how they look at it, they can't make sense of it. Ben looks about five or six years older than this near twelve-year-old. Josie looks old enough if she had given birth at fourteen or fifteen. The fact that he appears immortal to them is even more confusing, since vampirism is usually associated with the stoppage of aging, not the acceleration of it. The pieces don't fit, and only Kristof has the piece of mind to find the only logical conclusion.

"This is impossible," he says. "How is this possible?"

Ben smiles, "Believe me, we were right there with you, especially given that my son here, Emond, was born June twelfth, of this year."

Teodor gets it and then can see not only the similarities between Emond and his father but also his mother. His last hope dies when he realizes that I know and don't care. Even though he understands, he doesn't see what that means. The others don't want to admit it to themselves just yet.

"You're-" says Elodia, looking at him.

"Part vampire," Emond says, "part human, and part shapeshifter."

The shock is palpable in the room.

Ben steps forward, confident, sure, honest in every way that our kind can be.

"The day Emond was conceived," he says smoothly, "I had been bitten by a vampire. Though it had been sucked out of me, for the second time in as many years, there was residual venom running in my veins. Though Jocelyn should not have been able to conceive, she did. He walks in three worlds, my son. He is beautiful and a gift, but he is gifted too."

Elodia focuses upon Emond, and she looks confused.

"I can't get a feel for it," she says, and now Ben and Josie focus their attention on her as intently as she is focused on him.

"She can sense the abilities of other immortals," I explain.

"And humans," fills in Carlos, "if their gift is sufficiently powerful."

She looks at Ben, "Did he get that from you?"

"Get what?" asks Ben.

"He is shielding himself from me," she informs us, "as you are doing now."

"What?" he asks, looking charmingly confused, much as he did when he was mortal. "I'm not doing anything."

I fight the urge to go embrace him about the waist and explain. With a look, I ask Elodia's permission to explain, hearing the explanation directly from her mind, and I do when she agrees.

"Ben," I say, "apparently, they have a name for what you are in the ranks of the Volturi; A Shield. You have a purely defensive ability. She cannot sense you even now because you are blocking her."

I then turn to Elodia, to continue explaining.

"Ben has always been so gifted," I say. "I couldn't even read his thoughts when he was mortal."

She looks and feels shocked.

"A truly powerful ability then," she says. "Has his progeny always had this ability too?"

I look at Emond. I can hear him, even now.

 _Sorry, Mom,_ he thinks, and yet, I still can't feel him in Elodia's mind with her senses.

 _I wasn't lying to you, not really,_ he thinks. _I just sort of didn't tell you everything. I didn't want to make things worse._

"I understand," I say, smiling at him, "but how people respond to the truth is not yours to decide. It isn't fair to control anyone, even by never giving them the option to reject you. It is still their choice."

He considers and nods, solemnly. In his mind, he gives me a hug. I feel it and smile.

"I have the ability to alter others," he says, "to change their characteristics. I can sense these characteristics and change them. And, with some practice, I have started to learn how to change them in myself."

He looks at Ben, "I should have asked, but I sort of gave myself your ability. I'm better at it than you are, at least right now, and I can turn it off and on when I wish, and let only specific people in if I want."

Ben nods.

"You're right," he says, his tone not in the least bit disappointed. "You should have asked. We can talk about it later."

Meanwhile, the other vampires in the room look as though they are about to get back in their car and never come back.

"You gave yourself another ability?" asks Elodia.

"Yes," says Emond. "It was hard, and it helped that he is my father. There was less to alter, less chance of damaging myself. But, in time, I think I could alter the abilities of any immortal. Right now, all I can do surely is temporarily or permanently return them to their human state."

They actually move. It takes a lot to startle a vampire into motion. They are all against whatever surface is right behind them. I can hear the door crack as Teodor hits it.

Without thinking, I walk over and take Emond's hand.

"I know that you all noticed me at the wedding," I say. "Through the contacts, you could see the crimson of my eyes. I did not take human blood into me. I processed my own."

They all look at me, transfixed.

"Emond made me a mortal again," I say. "Imrich saw him. More than that, Emond has aged considerably since the moment this happened. At the time, he looked little older than a human toddler."

Teodor and Kristof gasp, then look away.

"The Volturi are coming," I say. "Even if they arrive and find no immortal child here, they are coming, and members of my family will likely die."

I look at him and at Josie.

"I don't know what Alice saw," I say. "I never saw it. But it was enough for her to leave."

I stand behind Emond, placing a hand on each shoulder. Josie came up, putting an arm around him, her hand falling on one of mine. Ben followed suit, their arms crossing behind his back, the three of us holding hands and holding the child we all would die to protect.

"He is ours," says Josie, "and we will protect him."

"The Volturi aren't coming here to protect the law," says Ben. "They are coming to collect what they can and try and prevent anyone who might have power enough to threaten them."

He looks at Emond, "He is my son, and as special and gifted as he is, he is still just a boy. He deserves protection from bullies and oppressors."

Emond looks at them, his face slightly pinched, afraid almost.

"I don't want to die," he says. "I don't want any of my family to die. I am not a weapon. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to live. I should be allowed that right."

Suddenly, something in Carlos' face gives. He walks carefully forward and kneels before Emond. Looking up at him, he gazes intently into his eyes.

"You're heart beats," he says, slightly awed. Slowly, he reaches out and touches his cheek.

"And you are warm," he says, stifling a laugh. "What else are you?"

"Smart," says Emond. "I think like you, but I change too, like Dad used to before he became like you."

Carlos smiles, looking at Edwina, "He can learn? Not just acquire new skills and talents, but truly learn?"

"Yes," says Emond, looking a little put-out. "I am more mature than I look, and don't appreciate being treated like a child."

"Emond," says Ben, smiling.

Emond takes a breath and laughs, "You're right, Dad. Sorry."

Carlos looks between them, and I know the look. Fascination, draw, curiosity, enrapture.

"Carlos," says Elodia, unsure. But even Kristof is coming forward, looking curious himself.

"He's a boy," he says, "an immortal child, yet one who grows and learns and can become more?"

"Yes," I say. "He may someday become something altogether new, again. He may one day be the best of all of us, without limit."

They look scared. They look thrilled. They look hopeful.

Teodor walks forward, "But how can it be?"

I smirk, "Perhaps if you three Incubi left your victims alive in the days of old, you might have found out," I say, half-jokingly. "It appears that male vampires can sire children, with human women."

Kristof and Teodor look the most shocked they ever have.

"Hey," says Ben, laughing. "It surprised us too!"

"In summation," says Kristof, "you are telling us, your current husband sired a child with his once lover, a wolf shapeshifter, who has vampire blood, the child not the lover, do to your husband having been bitten prior to the act of conception. The child in question has the power to alter the abilities of others, including removing vampirism all together, and now the Volturi know because our brother went and informed on you because he believed him an immortal child. Now, they are coming here and there very well might be a war over the existence of your part human, part werewolf, part vampire stepson?"

"Essentially, yes," I say flatly.

"And what are you asking of us?" asks Teodor, having trouble looking away from Emond now.

"We aren't asking you for anything," I say. "In truth, what is going to happen here is about as dangerous as it gets."

"But," says Ben, as I knew he would, "think about the bigger implications here. You have a chance at something we never thought possible before now; children. If they are half as potent as Emond is, there is very little chance the Volturi would be any more willing to allow them to live. If it is one thing that individuals in power fear the most, it is potent change, and these children have and will have massive potential. You have the choice to walk away, to go back to your lives and your safety, but if there is any chance for us to show that we have the right to our own choices, our own freedoms, we should stand together against the force that would take that from us. If we do not stand together, strong, as one, when the time comes that we freely choose something they feel threatened by, malicious or not, they will route us out, one and all, one by one."

Elodia looks at him, a look of horror on her face, "You are asking us to fight?"

"No," says Ben. "We would like you to bear witness, to say that the right to live, unharassed, is owed to all of us. But the decision is yours."

"We are not enough," says Teodor. "Will there be others?"

I nod, "That is where the rest of our family is. All that are willing to stand will come. Maybe enough to slow them down."

"The entire guard comes?" asks Elodia.

"The guard, the matriarchs, even the paramours," I say.

Elodia looks horrified, " _All_ of them?"

I nod, "So saw Alice, as she stated in her parting letter. She mentioned witnesses, so Ben decided we should get ones of our own."

"A wise decision," Carlos agrees.

Finally, Elodia walks forward, carefully.

"We will stay," she says. "We will witness. We make no promises to fight."

"We ask for none," says Ben. "And thank you."

Emond smiles, and Carlos and Kristof make almost involuntary sounds of awe.

"Yes," Emond says, "Thank you, so much."

Carlos, as though it were the most natural thing to do, reaches out and hugs the boy. Our hands let him.

"Do you hunt, my boy?" he asks, almost unconsciously slipping into centuries-old Spanish. Emond is able to keep up.

"At times," he says in more modern Spanish. "I can feed on flesh or blood. Either will sustain me."

"Careful," I say, joining in on the language shift, despite the fact that Josie thinks we are being rude and is embarrassed that she can't understand us, "he makes a rather large wolf. And pretty."

"Show me?" asks Carlos, and his brothers all start moving with Emond to the back yard on an impromptu hunting party.

Ben looks around, left with the women, so to speak.

"Should I go with them?" he asks, and Josie feels less left out of the conversation.

"They may hunt," says Elodia, "Or just measure _el tama_ _ñ_ _o de sus nabos_."

I giggle, smiling at Ben's confused look which just makes me giggle more.

"The size of wh-," begins Josie. "Oh. Never mind. I think I got it."

I walk up and hug Ben.

"Thank you," I say. "You did very well by your son today. I couldn't have done this without you."

He smiles, lifting me up to his height and kissing me gently.

"You're welcome, Wife," he says with just the barest slip of heat. I shiver. That will never become tiring.

"Ben," asks Josie. "Can I have a word with you?"

He sets me down and kisses my nose, "I will return."

They move to the apartment off the garage. I chat with Elodia, but my mind is really focused on what the two are saying. Josie knows this and doesn't seem to mind.

 _Just,_ she thinks, _don't give me a hard time about this. I get that he is really becoming your kid too, but we are his parents truly. When I get worried and need to hash it out, I want to talk to Ben about it. I don't mind if you listen, but, just, you know, don't feel bad or anything because this is what I need to feel comfortable._

I don't. She is well within her rights to ask and have her way, and I am glad she doesn't mind me listening. I would have anyways, because I'm not perfect either, but it was nice to know.

Ben walks with her, and as soon as they are behind closed doors, Josie sighs and relaxes.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she says, "but I do hate vampires."

I am able to hide my laugh, but just barely. Ben doesn't have that necessity and he chuckles.

"You don't mean that," he says. "You may not like all of them, but we aren't all that bad."

She rolls her eyes because he is right.

"I don't like the idea that we have to rely on them," she says. "I don't want to have to have them be the thing that prevents me from going to war for the sake of my child."

"I don't either," says Ben. "It isn't ideal. But this isn't an ideal world. We have to rely on our community to support and protect us if only to help insulate us in solidarity and safety. That would be the case even if we were all humans. I know that this isn't the real reason we are in here, so why don't you just get to what is really bothering you."

She throws me a brief and unnecessary apology as she walks up to him. Tall though she might be, she tugs at his shirt, something she did when they were younger and in love, before their romantic relationship came crashing down. It is an act of comfort, and I can see that better than she can. She leans into him and he holds her, and she lets go of the iron-clad grip she has on her fear.

"Our son," she says, "is powerful."

"Yeah," Ben agrees, seriously.

"If he learns how to control his ability," she says, "then he will gain the ability of any vampire he comes across. He will be able to have all the benefits and not of the drawbacks of any creature he meets, vampire or otherwise. He not only has the potential to become the best part vampire ever, he could become a living god."

Ben breathes deep, and even she can tell that the action doesn't relax him. He is stiff and still, a worried vampire.

"And," Ben finally says, "he will have the power to give these gifts to whoever he chooses. He is exactly what the Volturi fear. This isn't a misunderstanding; if he chose, he could defeat them all."

Josie has a hard time believing her own words when she says, "But he wouldn't. He's just a boy. We are teaching him peace and happiness and the simple pleasures of learning and growing and helping and truth. There is no way he could ever decide to go to war."

Be smiles, but it is a bit of a sad smile.

"He might," he says. "If the alternative is injustice, is tyranny, is oppression, he would, just as we would. We won't stand by as those in power kill and destroy to keep their power secure. He couldn't either."

She shakes her head and steps back.

"I can't do this," she says.

"What?" asks Ben, confused.

"I can't be the mother that Emond needs," she says.

"Sure you can," says Ben, cajoling, but I see what she means.

"No," she says defiantly. "I can love Emond. I can love him and teach him everything I know and could learn and could spend forever doing what I can to support him, and it wouldn't be what he really needs. I am not powerful enough. You..."

She sighs, takes a step back and turns her back on him. He refuses to let her go and walks with her, putting his arms around her from behind, leaning his head on her shoulder. She suppresses a laugh and goes on.

"You are smarter than me," she says. "You were when you were human, even if I understand some stuff better. Now, you can learn and understand and be what our son needs. He needs to understand, really and truly. And only a vampire can understand enough, fast enough, and teach him what he needs to know before the Volturi get here. He needs his dad now, more than ever."

Ben steps around her and looks into her face, trying to understand.

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Learn," she says, a bit frustrated with how slow he is right now. "Learn the way I never will be able to. Figure out the world, as fast as you can. And teach it to him, the most important bits. Help him be prepared to stand up for what is right and why. Best prepare him for what is to come."

I understand what she means. So does he.

"You want me to get him ready," he says, "in case we don't make it."

She takes a deep breath. It doesn't console her either.

"If it comes to a fight," she says, "I won't stop. I won't back down. I won't give up. I will fight to the death to protect him. And who knows who else the fight will claim. He needs to be ready. He needs to be prepared to live, with or without us. He needs to be a man by then, by the time they get here. Can you... can you get him ready for that?"

He hugs her, holds her, and she relaxes even further. She puts her head on his shoulder, and I don't need to feel the tears on her face in order to know that they are there.

"Our son needs to be able to do the right thing," she says, "even if we are gone. Especially if we are gone. It is our responsibility to give him a moral compass, and we can't just do the best that I and Ben the human could do. Only you can prepare him, for all of it, for everything. I'm not good enough. You weren't. Now, only you... and her, can raise our son in the time we have left, raise him right, in the way he needs to be."

He pushes her back, holding her at arm's length.

"I swear, Jocelyn," he says, his voice fierce, almost frighteningly so, "if you are giving up on me, already, I am going to smack you. And if you haven't noticed, I won't need a crowbar this time."

She actually laughs, remembering the time he... _spanked_ her? Ben spanked her?

"I'm not giving up," she says. "Emond is my son, dammit, and I will never give up on him. But I am conceding that I am not good enough to do what needs to be done right now. I... I guess I'm asking... for.. help."

"I'm sorry?" he asks. "I didn't quite catch that."

There is no way he didn't hear that and we both know it.

"Shut up!" she says, shoving him.

He falls back a step with the motion, then his face becomes serious.

"There is one other possibility," he says, "one that I think none of us want to think about."

"No," says Josie. I can tell she means that it isn't a possibility, not that she hasn't thought of it.

"Emond might not survive-" he starts, and my mind is a double twist of grief and pain, Josie's and my own.

"No!" she says. "If... if that happens... he won't be the only one gone."

"Josie," says Ben, a look of pain on his own face.

"No!" she says again. "Don't give me all that 'you have so much to live for' crap. He's my son! He's the best of me, the best of all of us. He's my first, my boy, and I won't recover from that. If... if that happens, I won't stop. I will fight until they are all dead or I am."

Ben hugs her one last time.

"I don't want to lose you," he says, "any of you. I don't want to lose anyone that I love ever again."

Josie chuckles and kisses his check.

"Then do your damnedest to make sure it doesn't happen."


	13. Chapter 12: Look Back While You Can (J)

Jocelyn

I walked into Katherine's office. Even though it was still hers, Ben had pretty much taken over. The books piled around him were impossibly neat, and I felt like I was in a museum or something, like I'll get yelled at if I touched anything.

Ben was just finishing a book, and by finishing a book, I mean he was finishing one of three books he seemed to be reading at the moment. One was on one of the candle things or whatever it's called, and the other two were real books. He set aside the book he finished as I came in, and I was able to see the title, The Singularity is Near, by Ray some name I wasn't even going to try and pronounce.

"What's up?" he asked, actually stopping to look at me. That was different, but I didn't often need to come bug him face to face either.

Sometimes, I wished he wouldn't look at me. Ben has never been, well, pretty. Like when he was human, he had the rugged looks and fashion sense of an underpaid lumberjack. Now... Oh, that boy was pretty! Like walk into a wall, he might as well be speaking a foreign language because I'm never going to hear a word he says kind of pretty. If I had met him before I became a wolf, when I was still that innocent girl who thought she knew what was up, I would have totally lost it. I sort of got it now, what Ben saw in Edwina. Before, I could respect it. I'm pretty much as straight as straight can get without any homophobic leanings, and even I could admit the girl was hot. And then with that blonde, even though he really wasn't my type at all, there were times when I would bump into him unexpectedly, when I wasn't prepared, and I would have to take a minute and reboot my crashed brain. But then, Ben came along and became what he is, and I have never met anyone who was my type more than Ben, and then you add all that gorgeous sexy on top of that... I completely got why he was done the moment he found her.

I was now sort of under the impression that I was going to die alone, because, as sad as it might sound, I didn't think it was possible for an act to top Ben, especially not now. It didn't make me sad or anything. He was my best friend, and I would get to be a part of his life, we would be a big part of each other lives, for the rest of mine. Assuming we didn't all die and all. And if I was being honest, that was enough, ya know? Spending the rest of my life, hanging out with my hotter than the surface of the sun best friend, us raising our son together, was still better than anything I really ever expected to get out of life. And if I was still being honest, there was still only one regret I had left.

I was only jealous about the fact that Edwina got to have him both ways. It was stupid, and I only ever thought about it when I was alone and far enough out that I was certain Edwina wouldn't hear. It wasn't that I thought she'd be upset or thought it meant something. I just couldn't take feeling embarrassed and have her be all understanding and everything. But I was selfish enough that part of me that still wanted Ben, for the pleasure of it, if for no other reason. I had no idea what being with a vampire was really like, and I really, really didn't want to think about it too hard. They felt almost icy at times, and the idea of something that hard and icy and smooth and I really needed to end that train of thought right there. As much fun as that might be, and as much as I knew it wouldn't wreck anything between him and Edwina if I asked, or hell, maybe wouldn't even if it happened, I didn't want to want him like that still. I wanted what we had and all joking aside, I knew that I might just start believing the lie again that we belonged together if something like that happened. I wanted it too much for too long, it would be tough to even realize I was doing it until I was already burned again. And I'd rather take a chainsaw to the lady bits than have to go through that train wreck a second time.

"You're staring," he said, sounding amused, and I realized I was. I'd probably been gawking at him like a starstruck fangirl or something. Argh, just kill me.

"Right," I said, clearing my throat. "I wanted to let you know that I'm going to La Push, for a visit."

He nodded, slowly.

"Emond?" he asked, his motions all tiny, almost like he only wanted to move enough to get his point across, and if I wasn't here, he wouldn't move at all.

"He is going to come," I said. "He hasn't seen his grandma since before, well, he started growing up. Speak of grandmas, when are you going to take him to see his other one?"

Ben picked up another book, placing it where the other had been that had just finished. He didn't open it. He just put it where it would need to go so he could read it when I was gone.

"You know why I hadn't gone," he said. "Emond isn't the only one that has changed since last she saw him."

"You're scared," I said.

"Yep," he agreed. "I am hosting vampires from all over the country, all with radically different ideas about what it means to be a vampire, how to interact with other vampires, and what is considered socially acceptable levels of murder. Many of them see fewer vampires in a decade than currently live in this house, and I am dividing my time between preparing the best defense I can for my son, teach him everything he might need to know in order to survive, and keeping our witnesses here and agreeable. I can't exactly do that and find the time to hop on over to mom's and put an even bigger target on her back by exposing her to more of our world."

"It has been months since your wedding," I said. "Have you contacted her at all?"

"Edwina has spoken with her," he said, not looking at me.

"So no?" I asked. I swear, I heard his jaw creaking.

"No," he said.

"Dude!" I said, exaggerating the word. "You're scared. I get it! But really, I'm going home. I'm going to see my mom. I am going to tell her that I love her and that I am glad she's my mom. I'm going to let her see her grandchild and get to know him some. I am going to do all that... while there's still time. I am so not giving up. But what did you say? Plan for the worst but expect the best?"

He chuckled at that, "Sure."

"Well, jackass," I said grouchily, "your mom has done a hell of a lot for you. And all things considered, she handled this situation as well as she really could have. So stop being a coward and do the right thing already."

He stood up and hugged me. He was cold and hard as ever, but he was still Ben.

"You really should give Edwina lessons on kicking me in the butt," he said. "She has been dying to get me to go see my mother, but accepts my inaction because it is what I choose to do."

I smiled, "Loving someone doesn't always mean telling them what they want to hear."

He pulled back, "She needs some practice."

From downstairs, Edwina's voice carried up, "Why do I need to learn when you have Josie?"

In that moment, a weird sort of idea came into my head. She expected me to stay. It was like, she had come to the conclusion that I wasn't going anywhere. Something about that bugged me. It wasn't that I thought I might go somewhere, but the idea that she just expected me to be here, like she didn't even consider it a possibility that I might be off having my own life... That sort of chapped my ass!

Ben looked at me.

"What!?" I shot back.

He laughed, "I think she is better at getting people to do what she wants than we think."

It took me a full ten seconds to actually come around to the idea that she might have just played me. She had just presented me with an idea that was natural and understandable and it made me decide to do something that she might just want me to do, for myself. Okay, sometimes Vampire Barbie is just creepy good at what she does.

"I'll take that as a compliment," she said, laughing. "Before you and Emond leave, we have a vampire headed this way. She is a newcomer and will need to meet him before you leave."

I hadn't thought about that. Hopefully, no other new vampires would show while we were gone. Or, maybe if they did, they would just socialize or whatever. So far, pretty much all the vampires who had come had stayed. Having so many of the red-eyed vamps around was really starting to creep me out. Even the ones the Cullens' called friends weren't exactly the friendliest bunch, but I guess they weren't exactly thrilled about spending time around a supernatural werewolf that they had never come up against either.

"Who's is it?" asked Ben.

"I am not sure," said Edwina. "I don't know her. But, I think I am going to like her."

Ben went out the window. I couldn't keep up without shifting, but I could follow. He stopped at the edge of the yard near the creek, with Edwina coming up beside him, having come out the back door. Some of the so-called cousins were there, the two single boys, blonde and blonder. There was a rush, and a vampire came running out of the trees. She jumped the creek, coming to land practically in arms reach of Ben and Edwina. They didn't move, but with everything I had seen from vampires over the months, this basically like standing, unflinching, while someone threw a punch at your head. Even the two blondes took a few steps back. I remained in the back, watching.

She was tall for a woman, nearly the same height as Ben. Her sandy hair was tied back with a thong, and she wore older looking clothes, or maybe modern versions of older looking clothes. Something about her made me think she was probably around when they signed the Declaration of Independence or something, like she was raised in the days when Ben Franklin was around. But she seemed like she had a swagger just from the way she stood there, confident in a way that had me sure she had earned it. I found myself hoping I never had to fight her.

"Well," she said, just the barest hint of an accent to her voice, "you must be Edwina, then. Katherine told me a bit about you. Before she found me eleven days ago, I hadn't seen her since seventeen eighty-one, a bit before your time. But she assured me that I'd be welcome if I decided to come and bared witness. I know a thing or two about tyrannical rulers and I couldn't rightly stand by while these Italians march in here like they own the place. But where are my manners? I'm Geraldine."

They actually shook hands, something I hadn't seen any of the vamps do yet. Hell, even the cousins hardly seemed to touch each other.

"Pleased to know you," said Edwina. "This is my husband, Benjamin, though he prefers Ben. These are our cousins, Kristof and Teodor."

Blonder came up and took her hand, in a way that seemed old-fashioned as hell, and kissed the top of it. His expression was enough to make weaker girls' knees go wobbly, but not mine, nope, not at all. She gave him a distant but still rather curious look, sizing him up. Blonde settled for a little bow.

"Charmed," she said, a bit sarcastically. "But who's your rear guard?"

She meant me. I didn't step closer. I knew this drill.

"This is Jocelyn," said Edwina. "She's a friend."

For a moment, I felt the eyes upon me. I reached out with my senses and thought they were not as good as my wolf senses, they were still enough to sense all the vampires around me. They were everywhere; in the house, at the windows or on the balconies of all three floors, one in the attic, a pair on the roof, two in the woods. All had been subject to the greeting, the explanation, and all seemed to take their decision to witness seriously and had watched as the others had been introduced to me and my son. But, somehow, I could see something in this woman, and knew that I was ready to do what I had been itching to do since they had all started to arrive here.

I wasn't sure if Edwina sighed, but she might have.

The new vamp had her eyes on me, and mine were on her. I watched her intently as I unknotted the front of the button up shirt I wore and slipped it off my shoulders. A tawny eyebrow rose artfully as she watched, her eyes unwavering. I slipped out of my shorts, and, with room enough to spare, leaped into the air, leaning back, as though preparing to do a gainer into a nonexistent pool. But, instead of diving into water, I landed on paws.

My coat twitched, shifting the wisps of steam and I walked slowly forward, a growl so low in my chest that it thrummed through me with almost no sound whatsoever, making the leaves near my feet tremble. Tall as she was, I would only have to make a small hop on my front feet in order to be at the perfect height to bite down completely around her head. I could hear the vampires around us swearing, a few of them scrambling back. Even blonde and blonder were giving me some space.

But, not the newcomer. Her expression had gone from indulgent amusement to totally fascination. She looked as though she was were fighting the urge to get closer.

"She won't hurt you," said Edwina. "She is as much herself as she was before."

Geraldine snorted, "Katherine mentioned you were a telepath. Handy, that. As is having such friends."

She walked forward, seeming as comfortable near me as she was near Ben and Edwina.

"So warm," she murmured, her hand waving through one of the lingering wisps. "Tell me, Jocelyn, how did you come to be as you are?"

"She prefers Josie," said Emond, leaping from the highest wrap-around balcony and landing beside me. "And she isn't the reason the Volturi are coming. I am."

It still took some getting used to, seeing my son as he was. He could pass for Ben's brother. It wouldn't be long before he could pass for my brother.

He had put on weight, like a lot. He was as tall as Ben now, but a good thirty pounds heavier. His face held an even thinner bit of stubble than Ben had ever had, but it suited him, making him look a touch more mature. He stood with a similar confident grace as her, his brown eyes bright in the overcast light.

Geraldine gave my son a similar look as she had given Blonder a moment ago. The growl happened again, but it wasn't so quiet this time.

Emond smiled, "Easy, Mom."

Geraldine looked back and forth between us, "Mother?"

Emond's smile became a nearly roguish grin, "Yes, mother. You see, the world has gotten a bit bigger recently. A new discovery has come to light. As it turns out, vampires have another ability that is not common knowledge; procreation."

She snorted, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that is, in fact, common knowledge."

Emond's smile was unwavering, "I said procreation, not creation."

And Emond phased. He did it perfectly. There wasn't a better way to put it. There was no shimmer, no waver in the air. It was like, he stopped being a thing that your brain could understand, even mine who knew phasing about as well as anyone, and suddenly, his clothing had fallen away, and he was something else.

The wolf he became was still noticeably smaller than mine, and it didn't help that he was lean, sort of thin. But there was still grace in his body and his stillness, as though the strength he held was not shown in the size of muscle and bone. His coat was a gleaming white, and his eyes were an almost glowing gold. His smile was undeniable as he seemed to take a fierce joy in what he was and what he could do.

Even now, she didn't look afraid. She came forth and looked into his eyes, and he just looked back. She looked at him and then at me.

"You're his mother," she said. "How is his father?"

"That would be me," said Ben, his expression sheepish. Still hot, but yeah, sheepish.

Geraldine looked at him and burst out laughing.

"You old dog," she grinned. "One woman not enough for you?"

Edwina raised an eyebrow, "Not exactly. Suffice it to say, Ben and I were not a going concern at the time this happened."

Geraldine still laughed, "How, exactly, did this happen?"

I knew this part. I didn't need to pay attention. I looked around. All the vampires had gathered. All of them. I could see the strange Brit watching from the slats in the attic, and the two couples from Egypt on the second floor, one inside and one on the balcony. I could see the three Irish vamps that had moved from the living room to the first-floor porch. I could see the other two cousins, the Spaniards, standing on the third floor, where Emond had jumped from. I could see two in the woods, the strange South American vampires, the males that seemed to predate the Spanish arriving, looking a bit like those old Aztec drawings I remembered from school. I could see the two on the roof, the unsettling women with the weird accents who said they were the surviving wives of Dracula or something. I could see the pair that had come in three weeks ago, standing inside on the third floor, the ones who said they had seen Jasper and Alice and had no news for them or us other than what was happening here and that they should come. I realized that I missed the other members of the Cullen family. Man, I wished they would return soon.

"Of course," said Geraldine, "it would be the men who get the privilege of actually engendering children."

Emond shifted back, into his clothes. He just phased over them, and they appeared on his body. I was so going to need to learn how to do that.

"I have no idea how to change that, yet," he said, "but given that I am learning to change myself, someday, I will learn how to change others as well."

I walked forward. As much as I was enjoying this conversation about all things my son was going to change about the world forever, I did have plans that day, and this wasn't them. I walked over to Emond and politely poked him the back of the head with my nose. He laughed.

"Okay, Mom," he said, he turned back to our guest. "I have a prior engagement. Please, feel free to have the run of the house. If you have any questions, my father and stepmother would be glad to answer them for you. We ask that you do not hunt anywhere in the area. My family's anonymity must remain intact."

"Naturally," said Geraldine. "I am sure I can find some way to occupy myself."

"We can certainly help with that," said Blonder with Blonde nodding. Both Edwina and I rolled our eyes.

Emond bent low and picked up my clothes, folding them carefully. He could run nearly as fast as a Vampire while unphased, so he could carry my clothes without me having to. The vampires seemed to be settling into doing their own things, so I looked at my kid, who smiled, and we ran.

Oh, but it was good to run like this again. I hadn't spent nearly enough time as a wolf lately. I had been around Emond mostly, as a guard, and until now, I didn't want to scare the vamps bursting into a wolf and such, and it wasn't as though I needed to run. But really, I _needed_ to run!

We turned, hugging the edge of our land, and as we did, I let out a long, gentle howl, a call, but not full of necessity, sort of a "hey, we're here". I had done this a few times, and it would probably go smoothly. I hoped.

We jogged to a stop, and didn't wait more than a few seconds before we heard someone coming. They were running the lines, as usual. It was a Saturday afternoon after all. Even the wolves that still had school could be out and about. Then, a wolf I recognized burst through the trees. I hadn't seen much of her since my short time as Alpha, mostly because she was so young, she was really only good for running the lines. She hadn't ever seen real combat, since vampires pretty much stayed away from here when the Cullens were here. She had been subjected to recon and guard duty when the vampires attacked back in May. She came lopping out, her run sort of jittery and spastic. Then, she did something I had never seen before. She took one look at Emond, and tripped. Badly. I had never seen a wolf trip before, except maybe when fighting, really fighting, and even then I couldn't recall it happening off the top of my head. The sandy wolf bite it and rolled into the underbrush, coming to stop on her butt, her legs not even curled under her, just sort of splayed indignantly.

Emond, to his credit, didn't laugh. He looked genuinely concerned.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and I swear, he looked ready to help her up, as stupid as that would be. She wasn't hurt at all, except maybe her pride. But as I looked over at Emond, I could tell he was trying to come off as harmless. He reminded me so much of Ben in that moment, especially now that he looked... like a boy in his late teens.

I suddenly had this mental image of me standing between him and her, my hackles raised, my teeth bared. Sometimes it was still hard to remember that not everyone in the world realized that my baby boy wouldn't be four months old until next Tuesday.

She found her feet and rooted around in the brush, coming up with a rather tattered looking faded pink sundress. She looked suddenly mortified at Emond, and quickly walked behind a tree. I could practically hear the other phased sisters berating her for taking her eyes off of us or for being modest or both. Finally, still pulling her dress straight, little Cynthia Clearwater came out from behind the tree.

"Um, hey," she said a little squeakily, trying hard not to look at Emond. When she looked at me, I gave her a decidedly hard look, full of meaning, and she hiccuped before continuing, "Um, so the Pack knows you are here, knows why you are coming and you have permission to enter our lands and stay until you need sleep. As stated before, you can't sleep here."

"That's fine," said Emond, sounding a little too charming for his own good. His dad was rubbing off on him and I had to put a stop to that, if I could.

"We will just be visiting the Black residence for a few hours then be on our way," he said. "Thank you for giving us this information. We appreciate it."

She giggled. Now, when I say she giggled, what I really mean is that this high pitched, rather nasally sound exploded out of her, very obviously without her permission, and was quickly cut off as she turned so red, she was practically purple.

At that moment, two other wolves trotted up, both, rather annoyingly, looking at my son with intense interest. At least I knew I didn't need to worry about with Quinn, but still. They finally caught on to me glaring at them, and Quinn grinned while Brandy Fuller looked more than a little abashed. Finally, Quinn walked up to me and bumped noses with me, then shoulders. It felt good to lean against my friend, and I bowed my head next to hers, feeling all the time I had missed her. We pulled back, and she whipped around, nipping at the younger girls as they sort of gawked at Emond some more.

"Okay, okay," said Cynthia as she turned and began to walk around the tree.

"I will have to come by some time," said Emond, "so I can start teaching them to phase in and out of clothing without tearing it apart."

All three of them just starred at my son. I laughed, as my wolf self did, my tongue lolling happily.

"You can do that?" asked Cynthia.

He smiled, and in answer, he phased. Those that had never seen phasing before couldn't tell the difference between what I had done and he did, but to us, the wolves who did this everyday and knew it so well, it was like an experienced painter watching a true master for the first time. They stood in awe of the white wolf as his clothing came to land beneath him, as though he had just disappeared and his clothes had fallen away. He stood, white and proud, and while he was smaller than me, he was as big if not larger than all of them, though still leaner. There was something in that look they gave him, something that spoke of a willingness, as though they would listen and hear him better than others, as though they might follow him. And then, the wall came down.

I could hear his thoughts, when he wanted me to, when we were phased, but this was different. I could feel how he did it, how he controlled the change. He felt it in a different way, noticed little details about the shift that I had never noticed, that once he pointed them out felt obvious to me. He sort of balanced his levels, as though finding the center from which the heat and change came, and sort of tilted it, keeping it from spilling anywhere he didn't want it to go, when he didn't want it to go there. He could also tilt it in a given direction, letting it flow through him and around the clothing, leaving them and the world around him intact. It was simple and would take practice, but I knew I could do it too. And, from the looks on the wolves faces, they had felt and seen what he had showed me too. And if they had, so had every wolf that was currently phased in their Pack. Soon, they would all know this, and I had no idea how they would react to that.

He smiled and turned to nose his clothing. He phased back, and he was clothed once again.

"See?" he said. "It just takes a little practice."

He looked to me, "Let's go see Grandma."

And then, he walked forward, like it was nothing, like he hadn't just shaken the foundations of everything the sisters around me knew and understood about what they were. Even I felt a little uneven, but still good. My boy was something else, to be sure. I joined him and we passed through the lands I knew so well, and ended up in the forest behind my childhood home.

I phased and he handed me my clothes.

"Was that okay?" he asked me. "Do you think I overdid it?"

I smiled, "I have no idea. You certainly gave them something to think about. Don't go off with one of those girls until your father and I can have a discussion with you."

"Oh, mom!" he laughed. "I know far more about human relationships than you did when you were my age."

"You know far more about talking than I did when I was your age," I point out as I put on my shirt.

"Relatively speaking," he said. "They aren't going to take advantage of me, and I am not going to do anything with them that I might regret. I know what love is. You and dad have showed me that every day of my life."

"And Edwina," I pointed out, though I wasn't sure why I did.

"And her," he agreed. "Dad and Edwina were lucky. It is clear that not everyone meets their partner in less than two decades. With some of the vampires I've met recently, it's clear that it can take more than two centuries, or with the cousins, a millennium. I am not in any hurry. If and when I do find the person I'm meant to be with, it will be for love. I will do it the right way."

"Unlike your father and me," I joked.

"Mom," he protested, grinning. "That's not what I meant. But yes."

Fully clothed, I started walking towards the house.

"So," I said, "any preferences?"

He looked at me questioningly.

"Vampire, werewolf, or human?" I asked.

He laughed, "I don't think it will matter too much. It will be up to her."

I nodded as I knock at the door, "Her then?"

He nodded too, "Yeah, pretty sure."

Then, I had a strange thought, "I wonder if you will Imprint."

He laughed, "That would be interesting, and useful. Sure, you know? I won't have to worry about making the wrong decision like you did."

Now that I thought about it, that was my problem with Ben. I couldn't let go of the fact that he wasn't my other half. Now that I could, that I had, maybe I was ready to find him.

I knocked again, and no one came to the door. Finally, I opened it.

"Mom?" I called, walking in. I got three steps into the house when the bat landed.

It hit my face, across one cheekbone. It wasn't swung very hard and honestly, was no worse than a hard thumping. If it left a mark, it would be gone in a matter of minutes.

"Ah," I said, more in protest than pain. "Mom, stop! You're going to hurt your hands."

I caught the second swing, but that was when I realized the angle. I looked over at my mom, standing just out of the doorway to her room, gripping the bat, a look of fierce anger on her face, despite her tears.

"Months," she said, her voice quavering "and months, and nothing. Nothing!"

I held onto the bat. She tried to twist it from my grip.

"You left," she said, her voice low. "You left and you didn't come back. Not a word. Not one word in all this time!"

She let go of the bat and looked like she was going to take a swing at me. I caught her up in a hug.

"How dare you?" she cried. She was thinner than I remembered, but, honestly, I hadn't hugged her like this in a long time. I hadn't held her at all in so long, other than helping her back into her chair once or twice when I was actually strong enough to lift her. She felt tiny to me, childlike, which felt strange but kind of right, even though my child had never been so frail.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said. "I couldn't come back, not really. The Pack wouldn't let him come before now, and I couldn't come without him."

"You could have called," she said. "You could have sent word."

"Yeah, well," I said, sounding as embarrassed as I felt. "Maybe I was angry. I felt like I had been kicked out of my home, and I guess I took it out on you. You're Mom, ya know? You were supposed to help me, no matter what, and always have the answers. I guess I just... I wanted to hold on to feeling like a kid and be mad at my mom for not being perfect. It was a dumb kid thing to do, but I don't really have many opportunities to be a dumb kid these days. But it didn't help either of us and I'm just... I'm sorry."

She sobbed, holding me, and I felt my own tears.

"It's not fair," she finally said. "I was going to yell. I wanted to yell."

"I could give you the bat back," I said, and she laughed.

"I missed you, Mom," I said, my voice breaking. "So much. You don't understand how hard this has been. Kids grow up so fast."

"They do at that," Mom said.

"Not like mine," I said, and as we pulled back, she turned to the other person in the room with us.

"I-" she stammered, staring, not believing.

"Grandma!" said Emond with great enthusiasm. He hugged her right off her feet. He was taller than her now.

"I-" she said again, sounding exactly the same as the first time.

"Easy," I said. "Don't break her."

"How are your legs?" he asked. "Are you having any pain or numbness?"

"No," she said. "I still keep off them most of the time. I can't exactly let on that my legs have suddenly started working again."

"Hmm," said Emond. "Let me talk to Katherine. We can work out a physical therapy routine for you, help you get back in shape."

"How old-?" she started and stopped, shaking her head.

"Anything else I should know about?" she asked.

"Ben's a vampire," I said easily.

She gawked. Before she could say anything else, there was a loud hammering at the door. Emond helpfully answered it before I could check who it was, and Lee Clearwater almost stormed into the house.

"I want to join your pack," he said abruptly.

"I- What?" I said, unable to make sense of what he just said.

"His Pack," he said. "I want to join his Pack."

Emond looked confused a moment.

"I don't have a pack," he said.

"You could though," said Lee. "You broke into our minds, but you can turn it off and on again. There's no way you couldn't act as an Alpha. I wouldn't have to... I- We could have peace and... Not be so dwarfed by... Look, can I join you or not?"

Emond looked at him, closely.

"No," he said.

Lee looked at him, and then at me and Mom.

"What?" he asked. "No? Just like that?"

"Yes," said Emond nodding. "You want something from me, without giving anything in return. You want me to inconvenience myself, solely for you, without even doing me the courtesy of being honest about why. Your request is utterly selfish and isn't a real request."

I swore, Lee was about to burst a blood vessel.

So, apparently, the door was still open. I was so focused on Lee that I hadn't noticed, but it became really apparent just as soon as Cynthia barged through it.

"I want to join your-" she started, then spotted her brother. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here!?" he shot back.

"What are either of you doing here!?" I barked, actually cowing them a bit. "Get out of my mother's house! Out!"

Traditions held true, and they did as they should. I closed the door after them.

The visit with mom was great. She cooked again, something she only did halfheartedly before she was back on her feet. She wasn't nearly as practiced as she was, or at least it wasn't nearly as tasty as my kid self-remembered, but we got to hang out in the kitchen and Emond commented that his cooking had always been better than mine, which was true. We ate and talked, and my mom got to know my son. And then, we had to talk about the real problem.

"Vampires," Mom said, her voice heated and rough.

"They aren't all bad," said Emond. "Some of them are quite nice, even if they do hunt humans. They are like people in that way. Just because someone is a criminal, has done immoral things, doesn't make them beyond redemption."

"I meant these Law Keepers or whatever," said Mom. "The Volori?"

"Volturi," said Emond. "They aren't bad either. I don't agree with them, but they are just doing what they think is right. Unfortunately, just because they think it is right doesn't mean they are."

Mom thought about that. I did too.

"What is right then?" asked Mom.

Emond smiled, "They are scared. When people are scared, they react to protect themselves. They want to either control me or destroy me. I am not okay with either. They would be much better off acting from a place of trust and learning to understand me, but to do that, they need to be willing to admit that they are wrong and be willing to allow themselves to be vulnerable. And I just don't see that happening. We either need to fight them and win, or they need to decide to leave, that we aren't a threat."

"I don't see how that is going to happen," I said. "Not unless you went over to their side or something."

"I could," he said, and I looked at him sharply.

"What?" I demanded.

"I could join them," he said. "If I peacefully went with them, if they agreed to leave without any violence, I would. I honestly would."

I didn't know what to say to that. I was terrified. He would too. I could see it in his eyes. I would join those monsters to protect all of us.

"No," said Mom.

Emond looked at her.

"You can't do that," she said. "You would never be one of them. You would only be a weapon at best, and a threat to them at worse. They would beat you down, bully you into their way of thinking, try and control you, and the moment you gave them a single reason to think that you would turn against them, they would kill you. Or, they would make you give your gifts to someone they could control, and then kill you. You can't give in to them. No matter what, they will never be but snakes, snakes with no charmers. Better to be dead than a slave. You can't enter into a compact with anyone who will only fulfill their end if they change who they are. They likely won't, and it never works out well."

We finished eating and talked about softer subjects. Mom was talking about a visit to see Carrie and said maybe Ben should bring the wife around for a visit. I think she just wanted to see Carrie flip her lid when she saw Ben the Vampire for the first time. I said I would pass that along.

Finally, we walked out, saying goodbye to Mom and promising to visit again soon, and as expected, Cynthia and Lee were standing at the curb, just off the property, where they likely had been all day, as I had known they would. And, I could tell by their posture that Lee was not happy that his kid sister was still here and she was trying really hard not to care or take it personally and was failing at both.

I looked at Emond. He didn't look surprised. He was ready. I stepped back. This was his deal, not mine.

"I want to join your pack," said Lee.

"You said that already," said Emond. "And I said no."

"But..." said Lee.

"I want to join your pack," said Cynthia.

Emond looked at her, closely.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Thea," she said, then thought better of it. "Cynthia. Clearwater. Sir."

Emond smiled, "Why do you want to join me?"

She swallowed, "I don't know."

Both boys looked at her, Emond observing, Lee a bit patronizing.

"You are something else," she said, "something I have never seen before. You can do things I didn't even know where possible just by being you. I... I want to understand, to follow you. I want to help."

Emond considered.

"Okay," he said.

"What?!" demanded Lee.

"What is your opinion on vampires?" Emond asked, ignoring Lee completely.

She considered, "I've never met on that I've liked."

Emond chuckled silently, "Fair enough. That will change, or you are coming back here. I can't tell you what to think, but if you are more interested in holding onto prejudices than learning to be accepting of others, I want no part of you."

"Okay," she said, sounding a bit worried but willing. "Okay."

"That's it?" cried Lee angrily. "My kid sister gets to leave with you? And what! I'm stuck here?!"

Emond shook his head, "You're stuck period. I can't help you. You're not willing to help yourself."

He turned back to me, including Cynthia, "Let's go."

I wanted to wait, to stand there and watch Lee, to see what exactly was going on with him that my son could understand that I could not. But I got the feeling that would ruin the effect, so I turned with them and headed for... home? Wow, that was a weird feeling.

"I killed my mother!"

We all frozen, but neither of us was as still as Cynthia.

We turned back to Lee.

"I killed my mother," he said quietly. "I lost Sam, the girl of my dreams, and then I had to sit back and watch as she found a love with my cousin that was so undeniably right, it tore me up inside. I got angrier and angrier. I was sitting on the couch and I made some rude comment to my mom, and she made some passing comment about if she didn't know better, she'd think I was becoming a wolf. She was mostly in the kitchen and there was no way I should have been able to hear her, but I did. And it pissed me off. I had never been so angry in my life. And I phased, for the first time. Destroyed the couch, freaked out my sister so much that she phased too, and scared my mom to death. I wrecked my whole family, myself, and now, I'm trapped, in the same pack with the girl I shouldn't want, forced to watch her get everything I can't have. I am the outsider in a Pack of outsiders, the wrong one, the only He-Wolf there has ever been, until you. I am making everyone else as miserable as I am. Need to break away, but with less people, around people who won't look at me and just see the sad prick I know I am. Can... Can I join your pack?

"Yes," said Emond simply. "But your sister stays."

Lee looked as though he was about to phase but couldn't make up his mind.

"Do I have a choice?" he said.

"Sure," said Emond. "You can choose to like it or choose to hate it or you can stay here. Up to you."

Lee sighed heavily.

"Oh," said Emond, "and you are giving up your grudge against vampires too. I'm not saying you have to befriend every one you see, but you are going to need to learn to be open to the fact that we aren't all monsters, and soon."

"You're not-" Lee started and shut up.

"I am," he said. "I am vampire, I am wolf, and I am human. There is no reason to add 'part' to all of that. It is what I am. Accept that right now, or we are done."

"Okay," he mumbled.

"What was that?" asked Emond pleasantly, sounding so like Ben for a moment.

"Okay!" said Lee, over-loud.

"Good," said Emond. "We don't have accommodations at the moment. But you are welcome to sleep in the woods around the Cullens' estate or sleep in our living room if Sam is unwilling to allow you to return home. But, as for tonight, come run with me."

Once we were in the woods, we phased. Emond was the only one who had his clothing survive intact. Lee now had a pair of shredded jean shorts that closer to daisy dukes than I think he would be comfortable wearing again, and while Cynthia's dress now had some interesting tears, it was nothing immodest. My top was almost in one piece, looking better without sleeves, but I would need new shorts.

 _Not bad for our first try,_ thought Emond. _Next time will be better._

I didn't feel like the Alpha anymore. I felt like an Alpha, like I was the sole member of my own little pack. They were part of Emond's pack now, and I had no idea how I could tell. He could share their thoughts with me, and somehow, I could feel Sam a little. She wasn't happy with them leaving, but she was sort of glad to see Lee go. It would make things easier. And Thea was no real fighter. They had just lost numbers, which was inconvenient, but could be worked around.

We were spreading. I could feel it. I could have more in my Pack someday if I so chose. Emond would surely have more in his. Maybe even his children would be in his Pack. And Sam would have hers, filled with the daughters of The People. We had gone from having the largest pack ever to having the first two packs to having the first three, in a matter of months. Now, we were learning more than ever before, and despite our separation, we were one. Emond could share his pack with us, and I was willing to bet we could learn to share our Pack Minds with his and each other. We were stepping into a bigger world. What would this world be even before the Volturi arrived? What would it become if they didn't destroy it?


	14. Chapter 13: The Trial (Benjamin)

Benjamin

The car turned smoothly into the drive. I looked out at the house I had called home the most of my life but thought of as home the least. I looked over at my beautiful wife, ready for this day.

"Let's go," she said, beaming at me. Of all the times I could recall, sitting in this driveway with her, dreading having to go inside, and now, she was going with me. I loved her more with every day. Every day was one more perfectly recalled twenty-four hours with her in my life. It only got better, and with every day, the ratio of time spent without her to with her became smaller.

We stepped out of the car quickly, but not hurriedly. We obviously didn't want rumors about my new appearance flooding the town, but Edwina would let us know if anyone was around and watching.

We carried our parcels with us, and the kids did as well. And by kids, I meant Lee, Thea, and Emond. Shortly after we stepped out, Josie pulled up on her motorcycle. She put the kickstand down and swung a leg over. She wore jeans and a tank top, which considering her normal garb as practically conservative.

"Ready?" I asked. She laughed, "Should be fun!"

We walked up to the door and I knocked with a free hand. The door swung open and Stewart Clearwater stood there, looking as surprised as his kids.

"Dad!" they both said, in practically harmonious consternation.

I laughed, the sound of it mixing well with Emond's chuckle.

"I guess they didn't tell you I was going to be here," he said.

"No," said Lee, "they didn't."

Lee sounded irritable. But that was how he always sounded. Every single time I had spoken to him, my every word had been met with grunting monosyllabic replies. I'm sure he would have rather pissed on my shoe than be polite to me, but that's his beef and not something I was interested in taking personally.

Thea, on the other hand, seemed to be sort of a sweetheart. She and Edwina hit it off amazingly well, and it was pretty obvious right away that she was a good kid. It's almost like Edwina had a sixth sense about these things or something...

"Are you going to let us in or what?" asked Lee, not quite as gruffly as he usually spoke.

"Oh," said Stewart, "right."

He stepped back and opened the door wide and we came in, kicking snow off shoes and such.

"Where's Mom?" asked Josie as she came in just before me and Edwina.

"Living room I think," said Stewart.

We walked in and he looked us over carefully. Edwina beamed at him, and he nervously beat a hasty retreat.

I grinned, whispering so that only she could hear, "You shouldn't frighten the locals like that."

"What?" she protested with feigned innocence. "I was being perfectly nice."

"I'll show you perfectly nice," I said, hanging my coat up an instant before I stole a kiss from her, leaving her gasping and dying for just a bit more before I made my own retreat. Unfortunately, I wasn't quite visible to anyone else before she nearly lifted me off my feet and dragged me back. I laughed silently as she set me against the wall, almost exactly as we had kissed on the day of graduation, though our roles were reversed. I was good to back inside this house that shared so many of those first memories with us. They seemed a lifetime ago.

"You don't think we can run up to your room real quick..." she said, and even with the heat in her voice that sent me into a near head spin all by itself, I couldn't help but laugh again.

"I think the others might notice something was up when the second story falls in," I say smiling. "Come on. We can assault each other later."

"I wasn't the one who started it," she grumbled.

I smiled and kissed her cheek, as I knew she wanted.

"Very well," I said. "I shan't begin anything we cannot finish directly ever again."

"You really are an insufferable monster," she nearly growled.

"Who told you?" I said deadpan.

She smiled so brilliantly, I felt like my heart had stopped all over again.

"Come on," she said. "We're missing the fun."

"Oh get up, Mom," said Josie. "No one here cares and we aren't going to go blabbing it around."

"Josie," said Mom, reproachfully. "That's really-"

"Quite alright," said Belinda, sighing. She stood up from her chair. Mom and Stewart nearly flipped their lids.

"You can walk!" Stewart shouted.

"Since when?" demanded Mom.

Belinda rolled her eyes, "Need to know."

Mom sighed, "Okay! Okay."

I had been coming up a lot lately, what with me appearing on her doorstep on Halloween. She couldn't understand until I said that she would be seeing me like this from now on. I had been practicing my rough human voice and had been progressively returning to my vampire voice as I spent time with her. On my third visit at Thanksgiving, I was speaking as I would at home, and that was when I brought Emond.

Mom's reaction was almost violent, but when we both laughed her into embarrassment, she finally gave up on feeling awkward, treated him much like she did me, and we got on with being sociable. But every time we brushed up against anything supernatural, she muttered "Need to know" under her breath and we moved on.

So, that was what we did here. We put presents under the tree, Belinda walked over and sat on the couch with Josie, Thea on her father's lap despite the fact that she was as large as he was, Lee hung back against one wall, Edwina and I got drinks for those who wanted it, and Emond asked a ton of question of everyone, curious about the finer details of Christmas.

Finally, we got to exchanging gifts. Mom got some fishing equipment, and from me, a book called Zen and The Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

"This looks a little intellectual for me," she said. "I don't really do all that much reading, Ben."

"Well," I said, "you don't need to read it all at once or anything. Some interesting thoughts and viewpoints. Might come in handy at some point."

"Hmph," said Mom and Stewart laughed. Both Belinda and Mom noticed. Edwina and I noticed them notice and smiled.

Stewart didn't get much since his kids didn't know he was going to be here and those of us who did didn't know him well enough to get gifts. Except Edwina.

"Here," she said, handing him a parcel. Inside was a rather expensive jacket, but it wasn't expensive because it was designer; it was expensive because it was finely made. We didn't even bother carrying that label at Newtons' because it was so rarely purchased it wasn't worth it.

"Thank you," said Stewart, seeming very touched.

Josie tossed a small bundle at her mom, who couldn't even be bothered to try catching it. She let it land into her lap and then put down her tea and opened it. She opened it to find a picture of her daughter and grandson, taken when he was still small and childlike. Alice took the picture. I was just out of frame, watching them as Josie tried to teach him how to tie his shoes, and he kept refining her methods of tying and teaching at every step. She was starting to get so frustrated that she attacked him with tickles, unable to be angry at him, so young and vibrant. In the picture, he was leaning into her on her lap, his feet splayed, a lace in each fist, laughing with his eyes closed. Josie had her smiling mouth near his ear, her poking, tickling fingers were visible at his sides. If you ever wanted anyone taking pictures, it was Alice. Every mom in the room had some degree of tears in their eyes, except Edwina.

Emond actually got a fair number of presents. From Edwina, he got an old leather bound journal, ready for all sorts of things to be written. From Josie, he got an intricately woven leather braid to be worn around the neck, fitted with wooden carvings and bits of shells, which he put on directly. From Mom, he got a book on fishing, and from Josie's mom, he got a very old blanket, which Josie protested jokingly for not getting herself. From Katherine and Emanuel, he got an open-ended, round-trip ticket to Germany, first class and everything. From me, he got a pen set to go with his journal, inscribed in gold; "Sometimes the most powerful force in this world is words." He thanked us all for the kind gifts and sat between me and Josie on the floor.

He was almost done. I could tell. It had been just over six months, and his age was slowing dramatically. He now looked old enough to be Josie's brother, mid-twenties, older than I would ever look. He was now a height with Josie and would likely not be any taller. He was just getting a touch of his middle-aged bulk, though he was already thick with muscle. It wasn't strange to me, to any of us, that he was now a seeming peer to Katherine and Emanuel, the child seemingly as old as any of us. That was just the way it was. Okay, it did seem weird to the grandparents, from the looks they kept giving him, but they would have time to get used to it.

"Ben's turn," said Edwina.

"Nope," I said, handing her a small gift.

"But-" she protested. I refused to take it back. I had waited long enough already.

She opened the small package, neatly wrapped, finding an old velvet box, small but larger than the traditional ring box. She opened it and gasped. Inside was an old tarnished locket, I had cleaned it carefully, using only techniques that would have been available in her human youth and only with the care and ability a human jeweler might employ. With fingers that were shaking, by vampire standards anyway, she reached forward and unclasped the locket.

"Oh," she said, and her voice was full of near grief.

"I didn't have Alice's help for this one," I said. "I don't know how to disguise my trips just yet, so I had to travel by foot whenever I could convince Em you two needed a 'girls' weekend'. It took some work, and maybe even a little creative problem solving, but I finally found it. And it was intact, completely."

"What is it?" asked Josie.

"My mother's locket," said Edwina. "It dates back to the early 1890's. It even has the original pictures inside."

Only those that needed to know would know that those pictures were also her parents. As far as I was aware, these were the last images of her parents that existed. Edwina told me a few nights after I had proposed that she had lost everything from her human life in a fire in the 30's. Now, she had two items left. She looked like she desperately wanted to be able to cry.

After Edwina had opened a new scarf, some gloves to match, and a fine pair of expensive boots, it was my turn. The gifts were interesting but simple things, for the most part. Emond had upgraded my Kindle, the new device that still wasn't out on the market yet that allowed me to read easily and electronically. Apparently, he and Edwina had tracked down some high-end electronic components and increased the memory and battery life, which I liked. Edwina had gotten me a new phone, one that had apparently been fitted out so that it could ring so that only supernatural creatures could hear it and was running on the most reliable network and made with the most cutting edge technology. She had already installed a new SIM card with my number since, apparently, my old one was too out of date to fit this phone. It was all ready to go. Mom got me a nice frame and had put my high school diploma in it. Josie had made me a necklace that matched Emond's and I put it on directly. After that, the gathering started to dissolve as everyone who ate started migrating towards the table.

I did most of the cooking, though Emond, Belinda, and Edwina helped. Josie said she would too, but she quickly realized there wouldn't be room, so she graciously decided to let us do all the work. Mom stayed out of the kitchen for the most part, which made cooking way easier. Every time Belinda would turn around, we would be done with something else. She was wondering if we were overdoing it, until I reminded her that we were feeding three wolves, and my son, on top of the three humans. She then considered that we might not have cooked enough.

My mother's table wasn't big enough, so we pulled out the old folding table and added it on to the end. Everyone who was eating crowded in the kitchen to serve themselves, all talking and chatting, if not all entirely amiably. At last, we were all sitting, and while we didn't say grace exactly, we did bow our heads in a moment of quiet reflection on what we had to be grateful for. Everyone was digging in and chatting and having a good time, relatively so. Even Lee smiled once or twice.

After seventeen minutes, I wordlessly excused myself, as though I were going to the bathroom, but instead, I went to my old room.

It was nearly how I had left it, nearly. The mostly empty closet was now mostly full of storage, and it looked as though it hadn't been dusted or vacuumed since I left. But the bed was neatly made and nothing was messy.

I was about to go back when I felt my phone vibrate. I pulled it out. It was from an unknown number. It was coordinates and a date and time. Just under twenty-two hours. It was almost time, sooner than I expected. I deleted the text, no longer needing it. I didn't want even this much of a trail between us. After all, if Alice really wasn't able to be here with us, she needed all the protection she could get.

The footfall I heard was expected and welcome. The arms that encircled me were the most grounding and gratifying feeling I could have.

"Was it her?" asked Edwina. She knew her sister well after all.

"Soon," I said. "I want to stay here and now a bit longer."

But I had stayed here long enough.

I pull myself out of the memory. Naturally, Edwina is in very nearly the same position. The tent we are standing in is large and dark and quiet. The vampires have all left, all but me and her. They are hunting, far afield, and the Cullens are less than an hour away on foot, hunting as well. I have missed my family while they were away, and when they had returned in late October, I was halfway hoping they had brought Alice with them. The number of volunteers had swelled, but tonight, we had lost some. I had come home bearing the news of the impending arrival of the Volturi, and, almost immediately, Alastriona left, taking some of the lesser known and solitary witnesses with her. But those that remained seemed strengthened by the weak resolve of those that had retreated, and to my amazement, many practically bowed to Emond, as though pledging fealty to him. He reiterated once more that he did not want a battle, but they seemed determined to stay and fight, should it become one.

It is easy to see why they believe and choose as they did. My son is beautiful and caring and brave and honest and powerful. He inspires me at times and there is little I wouldn't be willing to sacrifice so that he may live. I hadn't told anyone about the last part of the text I had gotten from Alice. I knew that if there was one question she could answer for me, it was the odds; what were the chance that we were all going to get through this alive. Her answer had been twenty-one percent.

So here I stood, on what I refuse to think of as possibly my son's last night on this earth.

"Are you back?" Edwina mouths next to my ear, and just the shifting of the air is enough me to understand. I squeeze her hand to let her know I am.

"I love you," she mouths, not wanting to wake Emond and Josie who are sleeping curled next to one another. Josie is in wolf form, and I am still surprised she can fit in the tent as she is. Emond, who would be comfortable on solid stone, is dwarfed in her fur and snoring softly, compared to his mother. I would mention that we could probably rip a chainsaw to life without them stirring, but I am loathed to negate Edwina's lovely thoughtfulness.

"It's going to be okay," she conveys silently. I nod. I am still after that, and so is she. We watch together, and time passes, slowly, constantly, moments that are both precious to me if we should fail or if we should succeed. Roughly a hundred and fifty-six minutes later, Emond begins to wake up.

He pulls himself up, shaking off sleep, and immediately Josie begins to stir, opening one eye to look around at him and then to us.

"You can call it creepy if you want," says Edwina. "I prefer to think of it as loving."

Josie resettles, but obviously is not going back to sleep.

"You just don't see it from her perspective," says Emond. "And, it's not like you never watch me sleep."

Josie snorts and Emond laughs, and it is then that I finally see it. It is Edwina expression that tips me off, the wonder and awe in her face, the tenderness and the understanding.

"You copied her too," I say, smiling. "You learned to replicate her gift also. You can read our minds."

"Not quite her gift," says Emond. "Like with you, I am a little better at it than she is. I get all the surface thoughts, but I also get some deep stuff, tenuous threads that helped you form the thoughts you are currently having. Like when Edwina was thinking about watching me sleep, I got some of her watching you sleep too. You were really unhappy when you first met Dad."

Josie gives Emond a pointed look with a sleepy wolf eye.

"I'm sorry," he says.

 _No you aren't,_ I think. _You want us not to be angry. But you know that you should take people's abilities without permission._

"I am not taking anything," he says. "And besides, I knew she wouldn't mind if I copied her ability. I didn't ask directly, but I knew the answer. She likes the symmetry of it. Though these aren't her words, she likes the idea of me being able to do what all my parents can do."

I look at Josie, but if she has any objects to Edwina being considered his parent, she shows no sign of it.

"He's right," says Edwina. "I am happy to share myself with him in this way."

He looks at me, "Dad, sometimes things can't be so straightforward. Sometimes you just have to do what you know in your heart is right. People get to make their own decisions, but that doesn't mean that they always decide what is best for them. As long as I am not taking away someone's right to choose, preventing them from a decision they could make, then I am not doing anything wrong. I have the right to be the best version of myself that I can, and I am not going to limit myself simply to make other feel better. It isn't right or fair."

He stands up and walks to me, smiling. Taking my hand, he looks into my eyes. His touch is always so warm. It practically tingles.

"This is me," he says. "This is who I am. I will do whatever I can to keep being me."

I nod, looking deep into my son's eyes.

"I understand," I say.

"Good," he says. "We don't have much time left."

He is right. I can hear some of the vampires returning. We have less than an hour. The times has come.

We step out of the tent, finding Lee and Cynthia getting up, looking less than happy about being up. They spent a good portion of the night pacing silently and restlessly around the tent. Finally settled down about an hour ago, but I am betting they haven't had much sleep. Despite that, they seem wakeful and ready for what the day will bring.

The snow is thick upon the ground, only a few inches, but enough to stick and crunch under foot. As we gather, Katherine and Emanuel run up, along with Emily and Rory. Rory goes straight for Emond and hugs him.

"When are you going to stop growing?" he asks jokingly, as he always does.

"Never," says Emond. "But I think I am going to be this size for a while yet, at least until I can find a way to change it."

Emanuel laughs, "That will likely be soon."

"I want to say something," says Emond looking around at our family. "I will not say goodbye in defeat, but I will say that you all have been an invaluable addition to my life. I couldn't be who I am without each and every one of you. You have given me gifts and experiences that I can never repay, and I know that I have done the same for each of you. But we aren't trying to repay them. This isn't about keeping score or commerce. This is what it means to be a family, and you are all my family. I love you all and nothing will ever change that, not matter what happens here today or any other day."

I come up and put hands on my boy. Edwina stands beside me, placing a hand on him and a hand on me. Josie joined us, nearly as quickly as Edwina, putting a hand on me and a hand on him. Katherine joined us, and hand on Edwina and one on me. Emanuel gathers to us next, a hand on his daughter and one on Josie, which surprises me and her. Emily and Rory join, one hand on the other and a free hand on Edwina and Emond. Even though Alice and Jasper aren't here, I can feel them.

The cousins arrive next, seeing us standing together and join, taking the last spaces beside Emond. Teodor stands with a hand on Edwina, though the exchanged looks before she allows it tells me that he is forthright in doing so. Kristof's second hand is on Katherine, and Carlos and Elodia's hands are on each other. To my surprise, Geraldine joins us, a hand on Kristof and a hand on Josie, though it is a stretch to do so. Other vampires come, and while no others touch us directly, a few stand close enough that they might as well be touching. And, together we wait.

The final ten minutes arrive, and we walk out. The clearing is one I know. This is where we met the nomads, Jamie, Victor, and Laurent, had met us. It seemed rather natural that it should be here, the place where I lost my illusions about the innocence of all vampires. Now, we will stand here for our right to choose a life of peace and altruism. I try not to think of the odds.

"I love you," I whisper to Edwina as we begin taking our spots, ready to meet them.

"I have no doubt," she says, looking into my eyes. She doesn't say it back. She doesn't have to.

We stand, and it takes me a moment to realize that we are at the center of the line. To our left stands Katherine and Emanuel. To our right stands Emily and Rory. Next to them are the cousins, beside Katherine and Emanuel are the Irish coven. Next to them are the Egyptians. Beside the Denali vampires are the South Americans. The others fan out left and right. We stand and are ready. The count drops to zero.

It feels as though a sudden stillness descends upon the land around us. Then, like a breeze that cuts through mist and fog, they come. Auri, Cloelia, and Marcia appear, their passage out of the trees not seeming to stir a one. They move like automata, with a steady, perfect pace that is downright lifeless, yet with an undeniable grace that is otherworldly even among the undead. Their usual robes remain but are made of a fine silk, both in thickness and quality, with perfectly stitched seams that only a vampire hand could thread, leaving no question about their lack of garb under the robes.

The vampires that move around them do so in many varied and distinctive manners. Some crawl like beaten animals, knowing their place and accepting it. Others beat about on all fours, brutish and savoring the violent and force their locomotion requires. Others walk with the slinky, sinewy grace of the efficient killer. Still others walk like soldiers, practiced and minimalistic. Others walk like bodyguards, always prepared, ready to snap at the barest hint of danger. Some move like leering jesters, corralling their own small herd of witnesses, some of which who look as unwelcome and uncomfortable as I knew some of us feel at the Volturi's presence here. At last, I spot Imrich at the rear, being cuffed forward by two of the stronger looking Guard, looking starved and unhappy. I am wondering how far they will come, how close they will come to us, when they stop. Though, it does not seem to be their choice; they halt when a long, loud howl cuts their air, close and heavy upon the wind.

With a snarl, Josie leaps from where she was crouched, low behind us, landing in front of us, a warning growl emanating from deep within, her teeth not bared, but her lips drawn enough to hint at their length. Lee and Cynthia join her, one to each side. Each of our flanks are joined by a Pack, Josie's and Sam's, a full fourteen wolves in total, marching out as the Volturi had, coming to a stop in unison, forming up with us. Together, they join in with Josie's growl, until the snow seems to quake in tiny tremors all around us.

The Volturi made no overt noise. They are still, except for the motion of their eyes. They had come to a stop about a thirty paces in front of us, enough distance that a wolf at full speed could cover in about a little over a tenth of a second. With the acceleration, would take them about three seconds to get there. Even so, if the wolves charged now, even if not a single witness came to the Volturi's aid, the wolves would be outnumbered two to one. Vampire's and wolves together and our side is still outnumbered. We might have a fighting chance, but not without losing many on our side. We have to avoid this fight.

A breathe deep the mountain air and speak, as though we are but an arm's length away.

"Good morning, Auri," I say. "Marcia, Cloelia. You are looking as lovely as ever."

To my surprise, Auri actually smiles. I cannot tell if it is the seemingly fragile nature of her millennia-old body that gives the expression its brittle semblance or if it is her mood.

"Your flattery is not unwelcome, Neophyte," she says with a certain indulgence to her tone, "but they are false words and mean little. You know why we are here as surely as anyone. Where is the child?"

I am about to protest, to explain, but before I can, Emond, who is lying in the snow beside where his mother had crouched, stands up behind Edwina and I. He is more than a little noticeable behind us, and as he parts us, walking forward, Edwina whispers quickly, "They are completely prepared for a fight, to destroy all who don't agree to join them under the guise of the law, even if we hadn't broken it. Auri is concerned that Alice isn't here. She won't get her complete set if she is not careful and is unhappy."

Emond steps past us and stops beside his mother.

"I am here, Auri," he says pleasantly. "Now, what laws exactly have my family broken?"

Imrich gasp is audible from here, as is the blow that lands upon him from one of the Guard, as is the jerk that Geraldine lays upon Kristof's arm to keep him in place.

"What is this?" asks Cloelia. "Who is he?"

Auri looks at him and looks... puzzled.

"He..." she says, "he is the child, a man grown."

Her eyes go suddenly wide, then she looks across at me, then Edwina. I remember that look. It is the look of the addict, the one who seeks knowledge of all. We have time. There will be no fighting until this story is laid bare.

I look at her, really look, for the first time. I take it all in; the Volturi, her appearance, her manner, her posture. I begin to construct a pattern in my mind, everything I know, everything that fits, everything that is likely, everything that is probable, everything that is unlikely. I take all that I know and begin to focus. With intense precision and care, I deconstruct her and look to understand her. And I know what I must do.

I understand what she is. I recall a conversation that I had with Edwina, on the day we confessed our affections to one another. She said, and I am paraphrasing from my feeble human memory, that there are two types of people. People who live day to day through habit and routine, who never seek much more for themselves than short term pleasure or distractions, who simply exist, and people who embrace change, who are willing to sacrifice short-term rewards for better long term ones, who are willing to risk and fail, to work for what is worth it in life.

The Volturi are not the latter group. They are exactly the opposite. They live for short term pleasure, for addiction. If half of what Elodia had said about how they acquire and keep their guard is true, they are dealing in keeping people content and unable to leave, even Marcia. There is no freedom here, no choice, even for Auri. They function without change as ever. I have a chance here. I have a chance to show them the error of their ways, to show them a better world, and have them become a part of it. To do that, all they need to do is take a single step. They just need to hear me and decide to leave of their own free will. It will be hard, but I think I can do it.

I turn and looking into Edwina's face. She looks back, confused and unsure, suddenly afraid. I smile, and her fear slacks a bit, until I respectfully slide my arm from hers, and start walking. I pat my son on the shoulder, and he steps back to stand beside Edwina, his mother and the other wolves in front falling back to the line.

Auri takes all this in. I am bluffing her and she knows it. She can see that I see that she is the true leader, no matter how much she and Cloelia both want to imagine their power is equal. She is the head, and if she truly wants to stay that way, she needs to do what I am doing; prove that she is not afraid to take a risk. What she doesn't understand is that by taking a risk, you are proving that you are not perfect and trust someone else, allowing them the possibility of hurting you. If she does step forward, she is trusting me. If she does that, then we have a chance.

"Lady," says a short, thin black haired boy, standing close to Auri, looking stricken, as though already knowing that she will do, almost as though he is afraid for her.

"Peace, my lovely boy," she says in a sugary sweet tone that has all the appeal of chewing tinfoil with human teeth. "I have no fear of this child any more than I have of you. He knows that the best fight is one not fought."

I can see her hook. She is starting slow, showing me what I could have, though she doesn't understand that her lure has no hold on me. She will do all she can to have me decide to leave with her. If I do, Edwina would follow.

She walks out to me, and we meet in the center of the two groups. I turn, offering her the arm that I usually reserve for Edwina. Auri knows this and takes it as we turn, walking slowly perpendicularly to the two groups, as though having a casual stroll.

With very little subtly, I place my hand on hers. She looks over at me and smiles.

"I see you are as talented as ever, young buck," she smiles at me, and for the moment, her sweet tones is lacking.

"I know why you are here," I say.

She laughs, and though it is as lovely as any immortal's, the underline note of lunacy is unsettling, to say the least.

"Please," she says, "enlighten us."

It is a subtle reminder that there are many who can hear us. I cannot risk lowering my voice so that only she can hear without risking suspicion, and I cannot paint the Volturi as villains without risking all those who hear it. Should such a reputation become ingrained, the Volturi's power might start to crumble. Ironically, her attempt to control me only prove how weak that power really is and, as it turns out, completely unnecessary.

"You are here because you think we are a threat," I say. "We have power, and it seems natural to believe that those with power will use it, especially to get more power. But, it isn't power that we crave. It is freedom, choice. We wish to live out lives in the same secrecy you-"

"Enough!" says Cloelia. "You have an immortal child here. We know it. No justification excuses you from the law!"

"My son," I say, unnecessarily loud, "is not an immortal child."

"It doesn't matter what you call your creation," starts Cloelia, but Auri raises a hand.

"Son," she says, looking confused. "Son?"

I look at her, into her eyes, letting go all control over myself that vampires usually hold to, focusing entirely on expression myself, not at all on how that expression might proceed.

"He is my son, Auri," I say. "He is a child, born of mortal and immortal both. He might not even be the first, the only one. Have you ever heard of a man of our kind making love to mortal women, having a care that she might survive?"

She smiles and casts a glance the Denali's.

"I have heard of such a thing," she says, "but I know the rarity it is."

"There may be other children like him," I say, "children that grow to maturity, children who have all the dynamics of mortals and all the strengths of immortals. They are something more than either of us, but are us, nonetheless."

The effect as it courses through the vampires is immediate and electrifying. They start a repetitive stream of words; denials, confusions, doubts, pleadings, fears, anger, and, on the outliers, the very barest hint of speculation. It takes me less than a fraction of a second to realize that these reactions are all coming from the witnesses the Volturi have brought. The Guard are still and silent, even the harshly animalistic and the most jesterish of them. I am not sure what this means.

Then, I turn to Auri, looking deep at her again. She is staring over at my son, a look of something that I was fearing I might see; coveting. I need to get her mind on something else. I know what she is after. She needs to understand why it is in her best interests for her not to have it.

"You are right to be afraid," I say, and she turns back to look at me, but I go on, addressing the group at large.

"Power should scare us," I say, beginning to walk, letting Auri watch my undisguised performance as I give it, "but the power that others of our kind hold is nothing compared with what is coming. The world is changing, unlike anything we have experienced before. The Information Age is here, and hardly a human understands what that means. But we can. And we do."

The vampires begin murmuring, looking about each other, even some of our witness do as well.

"Since the days when human first arrived on this planet," I say, "they have been trying to make up for their own limitations. They created spears to hunt, used fire to increase the ease of nutrients entering their body, build clothing to keep out the cold, created tools to make creating easier, created language so that their knowledge and experiences could benefit others and exist beyond their lifetime. That trend has continued today, and now humans have guns and cars and digital minds they keep in their pocket, capable of connecting to a vast network of information. Today, a sheep herder in Uganda can have access to more information than the president of this country had ten years ago."

"What of it?" asked Cloelia, seeming at the end of her patience.

"It is a trend," I say, "one that can be followed back to the origin of the universe. Evolution. Consider this; the universe is approximately thirteen point eight billion years old. Between that time and the time life first appeared on this planet three point eight billion years ago, seventy-two point four six percent of the universe's current age at elapsed, nearly three-quarters of all time. But, by the time that life became multicellular, twelve point three two percent of all time had passed. Between then and the first neurons appeared, ten point eight seven percent. Between then and the first mammals, two point seven two percent. Between then and the first hominins, one point five eight. Between then and homo sapiens, point zero five percent. Between then and now, zero point zero zero zero zero one four percent. The time between major events is decreasing rapidly. And at each major event, a new classification of organism emerges that is more complex and more powerful than any that has come before. So now, we must face the fact that this is happening, and soon, or the humans will continue this trend and we will face obsolescence."

A number of the vampires look startled, and even Cloelia looks angry.

"It is not possible," she hisses. I turn to face Auri, and her face looks thoughtful.

"Explain," she says.

"The technology humans are using is accelerating at an exponential rate," I say. "It seems slow and linear to them, but this trend has been happening for a while. Humans, looking at what was considered modern technology at the turn of the twentieth century, saw their rate of advancement and believed it would be thousands of years before they would master flight. And yet, in only a few years, the first flights happened in nineteen oh three. Then, in a human lifetime, they were able to land humans safely on the surface of the moon and return them home alive. I will not waste time reciting what fraction of the universe's time that period was. Now, humans walk around with computers in their pockets with more than a hundred times the computing power than that of the space capsule used in said moon landing. This digital intelligence will continue to grow, doubling its price performance ever eighteen months, but even the rate is accelerating. If this trend continues, but the late twenty-twenties, humans will be able to purchase enough computing power to run artificial intelligences that are as intelligent as an average college-educated adult human for around a thousand dollars. With the price performance continuing, in ten years, that computer would cost less than a dollar, or, more importantly, an unassisted human mind would be worth less than a dollar. How much more powerful would a computer need to be before we were outdistanced as well?"

The vampires begin to murmur in denial again, but this time, it is less fanatical and more intelligible. A lot of them understand and are looking for a solution. Unfortunately, none of them seem to be within the Volturi ranks.

"How will the humans compete?" ask Auri. "Surely they will not simply allow themselves to be swept aside."

"No," I say. "They will allow their technology to assist them, as they have always done. They will become directors of their own lives, but their technology will do more and more for them. It will likely begin to integrate with them, as it was when technology began replacing damaged or inferior abledness, as with prosthetic and cochlear implants. Thus, what was once on a desk that is now in their pockets will soon connect to their minds. As they replace injured or dysfunctional parts of their bodies, they will create aspects of themselves that are better than what they naturally have and will replace them as well. Soon, they themselves will have all the benefits of an evolving species, benefiting each of them on an individual basis. They will each join the exponential growth curve, and accelerate in their potential, limitlessly."

"Are you suggesting that we need to evolve?" asks Cloelia, with metaphorical venom.

I shake my head, "I am suggesting nothing of what you should do. I am stating that if we want to maintain our existence and our place in this world, we will need to change, in more ways than one. We need to become something more than what we are. What will happen when humans learn to monitor the world in ways that cannot allow us to exist as we are? What happens when the rate of murders and disappearances and mysterious deaths drop to nothing? What happens when human blood no longer has whatever sustaining element we need to feed on?"

Auri looks at me indulgently, "You have a solution?"

"I do," I say. "We are on the same linear track with current humanity. We are in our proverbial agrarian period. Some of us have powers, powers that we can bring to a group, to better the group as a whole. But what if we all could do what every vampire we meet could do? What if we could have all the knowledge and ability of every vampire come into contact with?"

I indicate my son with a hand, "My son has the ability to alter us. I am sure you have seen that he has the capability of reverting vampires to their human form, but he also has the ability to turn them back. He has shown the ability to alter his own body as well, learning to change himself so that he gains the powers of some of the vampires he has come into contact with. He has all the abilities of his parents, people who he knows and understands. In time, he could learn to acquire the power of anyone of us he meets. In time, he may ever learn to pass this ability on. We could all benefit from him, and we could all become something more. As the humans become limitless, so could we."

Auri tilts her head, as though considering. Then nods.

"Yes," she says. "I see."

The next sound I hear is unlike anything I have ever heard. It is the most violent scream of pain and denial I had ever felt, quaking the nearby trees, bouncing off the nearby mountains. And, as Edwina's shriek falls away, Auri savagely rips Ben's head from his shoulders.


	15. Chapter 14: The End (Edwina)

Edwina

There is nothing I can do. My entire family holds me back. But I must get to him. There is still time. If I get to him, at best, I can retrieve him. At worst, I can go with him. But they will not release their grips, and I am forced to watch as my world comes crashing down.

Auri hands doesn't need to do much more. She pulls from within her robes some sort of incendiary device, spraying his kneeling headless body with a liquid that immediately burns, the smoke the billowing purple, telling that it is already burning hot enough to consume his body. He's...

Josie howls, and her wolves stand ready for a fight. Emond is utterly shocked. My denial and my family are the only things keeping me on my feet.

I have to protect his son. I have to protect my family. I have to...

Auri doesn't signal. She just whispers, "The child is all that matters."

Suddenly, John attacks, his will lancing out to strike at the people who appear to be the greatest threats. I wait to feel the pain, as I am the first he wishes to down in vindictive satisfaction, but I feel nothing. I look at him, just as shocked by the lack of pain. I do not need to look around to know that no one else has fallen. He looks unsure.

"You will not hurt my family," Emond says, his voice low and powerful. "You will not hurt my friends."

John looks at him, and then, his eyes wide, he screams, falling to his knees, the pain he usually inflicts upon others boiling within him, burning his mind and belying he his senses. Many of the other guard step away from him, some confused, others afraid.

Cloelia looks at Emond, and figures it out.

"Please," says Emond, his voice low, almost mocking, his eyes on her. "Use your gifts against us. Please do. For every one you use, you will give to me. We believe that we offered you peace, but what my father offered you was a chance."

"Do not use any of your abilities," says Cloelia. "Rush them. Bring them down."

Immediately, the older two Egyptians flee, one of the wolves snapping at their fleeing heels. The Irish coven fall back, staying out of harms way, only to fight if they can without risking death, as does Paige and Charles. Nearly half of the Volturi witnesses flee instantly, but only two escape. The guard pulls the rest of them down, breaking them, leaving them in pieces, not yet destroyed, but so badly broken as to be unable to escape, to be burned with us when the battle is over. They are already planning to find the other two, and soon.

The rest of the Guard rush forward, the fighters in the lead, and the wolves go to meet them, Emily right behind them. Now, my parents let me go. As Emily and I bolt forward, hammering into the line, Emond rushes with his pack in a second wave with Sam's.

My time with Jasper and Emily has aided me. Of all my family, I have the benefit of knowing the minds of our fighters about as well as they do. The knowledge of combat I have, coupled with the ferocity in my heart at my lose, molded with my natural inclination toward being a soldier, and with my incite into the minds of my foes, I am a force from which no guard is safe. My cry is as palpable as a ram, faltering even the most sure of the front line. I aerial over the line, taking two heads with me, using them as clubs to rend as I weave and dodge around the clawing grasps and arcing blows that try to find me. Not since the wars of the Southern Vampire Wars has there been such a battle, and never by so many experienced and powerful vampires.

I watch grievous blows fall on both sides. Brandy Fuller is crushed below three members of the guard, taking one with her in her death throws. Renato tries in desperation to force his would-be attacker away and is pulled down by Colleen Littlesea. I see as Emily herself manages to catch Delia by one arm and Lee the other and rend her in two. In the rush that follows, Lee struck so hard by Flavia that he is hobbled, landing far from the fray and unable to put weight on two legs, forced to let the bones start knitting unset so that he might return to the fight. I go to Emily's aid, but I am unable to get to her before she loses her left arm. She continues, completely unfazed at all, thrilling in the battle. Even with the South American vampires attempting to projecting visions to run interference without blinding our own allies, and the Egyptian rolling boulders and causing wind to whip about, there is little help for it. Paula falls, and Chilton, and Amber, and Alexa, and Karen, and John, and many, many others. I attempt to aid Sam, with Flavia on her back, and two more members of the guard trying to pull her down, as she drives on, ripping Marcia apart before finally falling herself.

We are losing. We are going to lose. The guard are going down, but the numbers of the fallen are too even with our own, and their numbers are still greater than ours.

Josie sees Sam fall, and she let loose a snarl that rocks a few guard back on their heels. They are tossed aside as she charges, taking down at least five in her path. She takes Flavia by the head and shakes her with such fury that soon she holds only a battered torso in her teeth and a severed head in her mouth. Spitting both upon the earth, she turns, find herself face to face with Auri. Auri takes her head in her hands, and promptly snaps her neck.

"No!" screams Emond. And, with a gesture I have never seen from him, he somehow throws his hands outwards, and all Volturi in and about our side are forced back, all but Auri. Our side falls back with the rush of his forces retreat, leaving him and Auri standing in the scattered ruins of friend and foe, opponents on the field of battle.

"No," Emond says again. "This is over. No more fighting. Do you see? Look around us! Do you see what your greed has bought you?"

Auri, to my surprise, looks. She sees what has befallen her collection. Her aged face almost moves as her gaze falls upon John's face, empty and half covered in snow. She actually feels a touch of remorse, but she pushes it all away, brushes it all aside. Inside her own mind, this was all worth it, all of it, if she can retain Emond long enough to gain his power.

"This," Emond says. "It has all been for what I have? I would have given it to you! If you had been capable of peace, I would have given it to you freely. But you are so afraid. You are so terrified that you will lose what you have that you covet even that which would have been a gift."

Auri looked angrily at Emond, "I am no coward. You say that I am afraid to lose my power, but you are no less scared."

Emond looks at her. The expression on his face is hard to read. And then, he places his hands on his chest.

"What are you doing?" she asks, looking confused.

There is a sound, like a ringing tone, like the universe is a crystal bowl, being tuned to hum. Emond screams. And I watch, as the beauty of immortality leaves him.

"NO!" screams Auri defiantly, reaching for him, but I and my family are there, standing between him and her. He vomits blood upon the snow, suddenly shaking, mortal and cold, in shock and bewildered, unable to focus, his mind jumbled, confused, unorganized.

"What have you done?" Auri whispers. "What have you done!?"

I stand between them.

"It is over, Auri," I say. "Your prize is lost. Even if you fight now, at best, you will lose even more of your guard for nothing. None of us wish to join you, and without Chilton, there would be no keeping us. There is no more victory here..."

I swallow, looking to the ash darkened snow.

"No victory here for anyone," I say thickly.

For a moment, I wish Alice was here. I don't know how I am still on my feet.

Auri looks at me. She considers. If she leaves now, there is a chance that she will find someone like Chilton again, or someone like Emond elsewhere, who has the power she so desperately seeks now. She considers and bows her head.

Turning, she begins to walk back the way they have come.

"What are you doing?" says Cloelia. "They have injured us! They have questioned our strength and fought against us! We must crush them! We cannot let this insult lie!"

Auri keeps walking. The guard begins to move with her.

"You fool!" hisses Cloelia, venom running down her chin. "This will be the end-"

In an instant, Stefanie and Vlatka descend, and with bloodless vengeance, rip her down. Auri's step falters. She casts the slightest of backward glances, then continues as if nothing has happened.

They disappear from sight, and then hearing, and then from my thoughts. I don't remember slumping in the snow, just noting the press of my face in the snow. I feel something warm press against me.

"Mother," comes the rough, shaky, human voice. So like his voice, so like home.

I sit up.

"Make me human again," I say.

"I..." he says.

"Do it!" I cry, painfully loud and he flinches away.

"I can't," he says, pain in his eyes. "I-"

"I can't bare this!" I say, my voice trembling as much as I can possibly make it. "I want to cry! I want the potential for an easy death! I want this all to go away! I don't want the mind that is so complex I can't forget what has happened! Please! Please! He can't be gone! He can't be gone!"

He holds me. Katherine and Emanuel hold me. Rory and Emily. And then, I feel it.

"What?" I straighten, unable to make sense of what I am hearing. "WHAT!?"

Alice comes bounding into the clearing, with Jasper just behind her, and four individuals following her, with a couple coming to a halt near the outskirts of the clearing.

"Alice," I say, shaking my head. "How-"

"There is still time," she says. "But not much."

She thrusts her hand into the snow, just at the edge of the ashen smear that was once the man I loved. She finds what she is looking for, and pulls it out from under the tossed snow; half of one of his thumbs.

She quickly walks to Emond. Talking the last, largest bit of his father, she presses it to the side of his cheek. Emond's expression is distant, glassy, unsure.

"Focus," says Alice. "It will be okay. You understand, still. You know how."

Emond blinks, and then closes his eyes.

"Please," I whisper. "Please, please please."

Nothing happens.

And then, in a ripple, tendrils of white dive into him. They pull through his flesh, and he screams even louder than I did when I became immortal again. Emond arcs in the snows, twisting as the change forces its way into him, returning him to his half immortal state. Finally, he lies, panting in the snow, himself again.

"Of course," he says. "Of course. I passed it to him. I gave him the gift to change others. I passed it to him, unconsciously, this morning. He has it. Once I was mortal, you could see, and you knew what to do."

I swallow, "But, what? Even if this piece of him remains, even if he can pull himself back together with all the venom in the world, his brain, his mind-"

"Is right here," says Emond, touching his own temple.

"He couldn't keep me out anymore," he says, "and when it came to him, I could get so much more of him than I could other minds. It is strange really. I have everything here, everything I need."

Carefully, with undeniable reverence, he takes what is left of his father, and walks to the ash that was once him. Sinking his hand into it, he begins to draw it out, slowly, as though somehow separating two intermingled colors of sand. Once the pile lie atop the icy earth, he closes his eyes, concentrating hard.

The ash begins roll about, shifting around itself, little rivulets of wind flitting the particles about, fitting them into their proper places. And as they settled, they flushed white; a very familiar cast of pale, beautiful, ungodly welcome hue of vampire skin, reconstituting themselves into a body.

Ben lie upon the snow, completely still. I am likewise immobile, daring not to hope, even with my love whole before my very eyes. And then, with almost imperceptible motion, the corners of his lips just barely pull upwards.

"This is going to hurt, isn't it?" he says.

The next instant, we are crashing into the trees at the far end of the clearing, nearly missing several of the newcomers. I am clutching him to me with an abandon I have never known in my immortal life. His newly restored limbs are creaking in protest, nearly crackling at the force of our embrace, and neither of us seems to care. The kiss is no less potent.

"You're alive!" I whisper, trying to convince my every cell of it be feeling him as completely as I can with my every sense. Alas! His mind is as blank as ever.

"Relatively speaking," he says. "And perhaps not for long..."

I ease my grip, as much as I am able.

"Never, ever, ever do that to me again," I say, aching to be able to cry.

"I will do my best," he promises, touching my check.

"You..." I say. "You are all there?"

He stand, holding me to him, setting me on my feet again. I am suddenly very aware that while he was restored, his clothing was not. I quickly push the thought aside.

"Well," he says, "let's see."

Smiling, he closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine.

And then, like the sun cresting the hill after the longest night that has ever been, something parts between us.

And there it is. My face, seen with weak human eyes, the first day he saw me. And I can't simply witness it, not without feeling the tenor of the memory, the awe and the wonder he felt, the fascination, not at my stark beauty, but at my difference, at how almost familiar I felt, as though I was the answer to a question that he didn't know he had been asking; why? Why was he here on this world? Where was it all going? What did it all mean?

And then, in a rush, it all comes. Every day with me, every moment. All the fear and the worry, all the mistakes and the learning, all the joy and the sorrow and the peace and the torment. Every bit of it. I was the answer. And while my absence would have taken nothing from his life, my presence brought more than he could have ever asked for.

"I can hear you," I barely whisper, wanting to cry all over again.

He grins, "There. Now you know. No one in the history of the world has ever loved anyone as much as I love you."

I laugh. I can't help it.

"You're almost right," I say, and I am kissing him again, and the utter joy of it feels like it will break me more than my embrace nearly broke him.

We walk back to the group, hand in hand, trying to contain the fact that we are alive, just in time to find the mourners.

Karen, Paula, Amber, and Brandy had been moved to lie together, side by side on the snow, now in human form, their injures strangely lessened by their return to human form. The others are being moved to lie with them. I can see the lose fill Ben as he saw our dead, and I wait for the final blow to fall.

"Josie," he whispers, and the pain that fills those two syllables is enough to make my knees go weak.

"Wait," he says. "Emond come here!"

Cynthia and Quinn, holding Joise, nearly drop her as he rushes forward, Emond coming to join him.

"Can you hear it?" he asks, and Emond listens. I hear it too.

"Blood still runs in her veins," he says. "She isn't..."

Emond touches her, his hand coming to land on her chest. There is a shimmer, like the wolves changing, so brutality done in its speed that even I can tell he over did it to make the change happen faster.

Josie's neck straightens, and her eye lids flutter.

"Took you long enough," she says roughly.

"Mom!" Emond cries, and curls into his mother's arms, despite being her size. "Oh mom!"

Lee hobbles over, "Sir."

Emond touches him briefly and his crooked left limbs right themselves.

"Help me," says Josie and Quinn and Emond pull her up, and she nearly falls when Quinn hugs her.

"Amber," she whispers.

"I know," says Josie.

"And Sam," Quinn continues.

"I know," says Josie, almost weekly. "I know. We'll get them home. We will preform the rites and sing their bravery and keep their memories."

She looks up, seeing Ben with me, and blinks. Before she can do more than release Quinn, Ben is hugging her.

"I thought you were gone," he says. She hugs him back.

"I thought you were gone too," she says. "Also, thanks for that. Now I can check something else off my bucket list."

He laughs, and takes a step back.

"Can we help?" he asks, looking at the fallen wolves turned women again.

I seem to understand that he is asking if we are allowed to help, not if there is anything we can do.

"No," she says simply. "We need to do this. I will likely have to stay and get things settled for a bit."

I see what she means. Of the fourteen wolves, six remain, and three of them are in Josie's while two are in Emond's. The Quileutes would be left with Colleen Littlesea as their only defender if something doesn't change.

"Go with them," says Emond, and Lee and Cynthia are immediately still.

"Go," he says. "Our people need you now. You may return when you are no longer needed, when you are ready."

He turns to Cynthia. Taking her hand, he smiles. And in a moment, she begins to grow. She ages miraculously before our eyes, and soon is an age with Josie, nearly as tall and strong.

"What..." she stammers, looking lightheaded.

"You're an alpha now," says Emond. " You will lead the Pack of our People."

"I'm not following my baby sister-" begins Lee, but Cynthia turns, and gives him a look. It isn't a threatening look, full of vigor or posturing. She simply lays her heavy gaze upon him. And, he shuts up.

"What about the other...?" asks Lee, looking at the scattered remains of our fallen foes. Emond nods, clenching his fist, and suddenly, all the bits of vampire around us burst into flames. But, a noticeably large pile remains. They are broken and beaten, the witness the Volturi brought. Jasper is already there, with Katherine, restoring the broken and innocent immortals to their former state.

The wolves lift their fallen sisters, each carrying one while Josie takes both Sam and Amber and Cynthia with Karen and Brandy. They march proudly out of the clearing and away, home.

Emond walks to the remaining witnesses, our comrades, which are all alive, though some are suffering from a lost limb.

"Thank you," he says, walking before them, taking their hands in turn, restoring those that need it. "What you have done here, in defense of my family, in the defense of choice, will be a turning point for years to come. What my father said was true; we will need to change if we are to keep up with the growth that tomorrow will bring. But, the change he is talking about isn't about abilities or strength or skills. It is about living differently, about choosing choice and free will and vulnerability and compassion over control and dominance and power and all the mentalities that lead to such things as preemptive strikes. We will get there, those of us who would rather live for tomorrow than today, who choose risk for greater rewards and who sacrifice for the truth and what is right. Return to me in five years time, and by then, I will have mastered my abilities, and I will gift them to you, if you would like them, if you will do right by them. Together, we will become more than what we have ever been. With peace and love and hope, we will learn to overcome all obstacles."

Many of them leave, after embracing him and each other and us. We say our goodbyes and promise to keep each other aware should the Volturi come seeking us down. At last, only the Denali Coven, Geraldine, and a few of the newcomers remains. My gaze sweeps the area and falls almost immediately on Alice.

"You bitch!" I say, my arms closing on empty air as I try to squeeze the life out of her.

"Calm down, Edwina," she chides me. "You can kill me later. Right now, I need to make introductions."

We turn to our cousins, embracing Imrich. He was one of the two witnesses that managed to escape the Volturi lines. Apparently, he was collected by Alice when she was coming to our aid.

"You complete idiot," Kristof is saying, cuffing him soundly about the back of the neck. "You are immensely stupid."

"I know," says Imrich. "I am sorry. I thought that if I didn't go directly to the Volturi and they found out about it, they would eliminate the rest of our family. I tried to protect us."

"At our expense," I say, walking up to them.

He looks completely ashamed, "Yes."

Emanuel puts a hand on his shoulder, "It is alright Imrich. We understand. We do not blame you."

Emily hisses, and Ben looks on as Rory drips venom down upon her injury, reattaching the arm as if gluing it back on. Emond shakes his head, having offered his assistance, but Emily wanted the scar and the pain. My sister can be so bewildering at times.

"We do," says Teodor. "How could you just run off like that, without us?"

"I am sorry," he says, looking truly dejected.

"Enough," says Alice. "We have some hybrids that you all will want to meet."

There are four of them, standing about, looking a bit unhappy and out of place, two boys and two girl, though one girl and one boy look as though they might be related.

"This is Kristina," says Alice, indicating the stand alone girl with sharp, pale features, light hair and pale blue eyes, a very cold look about her. She bows, subtly and with intense control, even among vampires.

"This is Icarus," she adds, indicating the dark hair boy with an olive complexion, handsome features, and dark eyes.

"And the twins," she says, "Tiziana and Tiziano."

"Tina," says the girl, pale of skin, hazel eyes, and auburn of hair, her tongue as sharp as her Italian accent and features.

"And Tito," says the boy, colored like his sister and his features just as sharp, but his voice was soft and carefree, almost lyrical.

I then notice that despite her sincere attempt at indifference, Tina is trying desperately to keep her eyes away from Emond, who is looking at her with open warmth. And I notice that all the cousins who aren't Spanish are looking at these hybrids with open shock.

"These were just the ones that I could find in the time I had," said Alice. "I have heard rumors of at least four more that I can say with some certain are yours."

"What?" asks Emily, walking over, flexing her reattached arm with some discomfort. "What is going on?"

I smile, "Meet the cousins once removed."

My family, all except Ben, looks awed and wondrous. Ben just smiles.

"Welcome," he says.

Two vampires join them, what looks to be paternal guardian to Icarus and a young female lover to Kristina. A few more come forth, friends of Alice or the hybrids or both.

"We held back until we could be sure what the Volturi would do," says Alice. "There was a chance the fighting would continue. Trying to see around the wolves and Emond was nearly impossible. I could only be sure of three things. One, if I had been here, Auri would have pressed her advantage even harder, satisfied to lose even more of her guard if it meant a chance at Edwina and I. Two, if the Volturi didn't strike first, there was a chance to settle this peacefully, and for that, there would need to be witness who could attest to what a hybrid was like and how they lived their lives. And three, if the Volturi fought, Cloelia would need to be destroyed or she would return at an undetermined time within the next year, and it would mean the end of the wolves and us, who would not abandon them."

She shakes her head, "All in all, I think it was the best outcome we could have hoped for, given all the variables. It was, after all, slightly better than I was expecting. Though, I do wish that much death could have been avoided. Some of the oldest immortal alive are dead now. I just wish..."

She drifts off into silence. Geraldine, who had been standing with Kristof, finally walks forward towards Kristina.

"She is your daughter?" she asks, sounding awed.

"I am," says Kristina, and her accent minimal but there.

"Please, Little Star," says her vampire lover in rapid Russian, a few words with strange accents. "You do not need this. You have lived long without him. You can live without him still."

"I am not afraid," Kristina says back in Russian as well, firm and proudly trying to hide her veiled terror.

"I am," says Kristof, in Russian, his accent similar to their, more pronounced, older perhaps, but without the influence of having lived in modern Russia.

"I never knew you lived," he says. "I didn't know it was possible for you to even be. You look so like your mother. Were... were you alone, for very long?"

"She had me," says the vampire in startlingly proper London-accented English.

"Then thank you," says Kristof, also in English. "I am glad, and I am sorry."

Geraldine walks over, "Oh, come on, let's have a look at you."

Kristof is inching forward while Imrich looks as though he has forgotten how to relax, standing a pace from Icarus and his mentor, all looking comically uncomfortable. Meanwhile, while this whole exchange has happened, Teodor is standing to one side, not paying any attention, a child in each arm. I turn to see that Emanuel is handing Ben clothing, who is dressing, which catches my attention for a moment, just long enough for Alice to worm her way under my arm.

"I'm not forgiving you," I say coldly.

"You will," she says. "And not because I was able to restore your son, who was able to restore Ben for you."

"Oh?" I ask. "Then why?"

Alice recites every syllable she knows how to speak in her mind, arranged by introduction into the world, then by location, first by latitude then longitude.

"Fine," I say. "Don't tell me."

Ben comes over and embraces us both. He thinks that we might be able to take her if we work together and Emond agrees. As soon as Emond touches her shoulder, she loses the future and we lift.

"No!" she squeals and lands squarely in the stream.

More than a few vampires are laughing, as well as Tito, as she sulks her squelching way towards the house.

"If anyone has touched my clothes, I will remove their hands and hide them for a week," she snarls as she walks inside.

 _I am so glad she's home,_ Ben thinks to me.

"Me too," I say.

But Ben smiles at me, and then, he opens his mind as before, and shows me... himself; as I am seeing him, through my eyes.

I look at Emond.

"Don't look at me," he laughs. "I didn't take it back or give him any more. He did that on his own."

Ben smiles. And I smile.

We run. We don't need to think. We know where we are going.

The meadow is snow-kissed, somewhat stark from the last time we were here, but no less beautiful to either of us. We lie in the snow, as we did in the grass, looking at each other, simply reveling in our eyes being upon one another. But, unlike all the times before, we open our minds to each other and are just as enamored with the others' admiration as we are with our own.

 _Is it over?_

 _No._

 _No?_

 _It is never going to be over because there is no end here. There will always be another thing, and then another. That is the nature of life. But we will be ready, you and I, for every next thing._

 _Always._

 _What about the Volturi? You aren't concerned._

 _No. I do no think they are going to come back any times soon._

 _I suppose that is true. If they can't find a way to keep up with how our family is changing and growing, then even if they do return, there is nothing they will be able to do._

 _My thoughts exactly._

He reaches up and touches my face.

"So," he asks, "what do you want to do now?"

I look at him.

"I have you," I say. "I have our family. Just with that, every day is an adventure. What more could I ask for?"

He smiles, "What more, indeed?"


	16. Epilogue

Ben walks in through the French doors, having to bobble to make sure the almost comically tall stack of firewood in his arms didn't brush the lintel. As precarious and unmanageable as the stack appears to be, he maneuvers it with easy to the nearly empty racks beside the fireplace of their home.

The cottage had been bouncing around in the back of Emanuel's mind for some time, and when Edwina and Ben decided they needed a bit more room to themselves, he was ready with the solution. Ben and Edwina had both helped him in its construction, a run down little dwelling back in the woods behind the Cullen estate. They had worked tirelessly for a very short space of time, and while Ben had discovered that he was good at the work, he found far less joy in it than Emanuel did. Edwina had found it emboldening, and she had expanded with a few additional rooms and made a few improvements to the back gardens. In the end, it was glorious space that they both shared and loved.

Ben settles the wood upon the racks in fast, fine order, almost artistically stacked. He had taken to keeping a home far better than he would have ever thought possible, but there was much about his life he hadn't expected.

"Daddy!"

He doesn't need to turn. He is already reaching out his arm to catch his daughter as she leaps into the air towards him, not needing his eyes to know exactly where she will be. He spins her and lifts her high, giggling all the while.

"Carthrine," he smiles, pressing his cheek to hers.

She giggles again and shakes her head at the intensity of the sensation once he has pulled back, her auburn curls bouncing as she smiled, her green eyes gleaming in the light of dawn.

 _Where's mommy?_ she asks, touching his face.

Ben smiles, patting her hair, his fingers carefully parting the knots painlessly that her night's sleep had put in it.

"She went to go see your brother," he says grinning. "Should we go see them? Maybe he has some breakfast waiting for you."

She rolls her eyes, looking so like her mother. Despite much cajoling and light teasing, the child still preferred blood to human food.

Ben laughs boisterously and lifts her to his face again. She giggles as her father pulls his lips around his teeth and mocks going for her ear.

"Okay," she smiles. "Let's go find, mommy."

 _But I am not eating..._

Ben smiles. She will eat. Emond learned her favorite meals rather quickly, being the young man he was with all his gifts. Now, despite her protestations, she rarely turns down anything he serves.

Before Ben can ask if she would like to be carried, she neatly backflips out of his arms and begins running at a pace that scared him the first time he saw her do it. He has trouble keeping up at times and has to push very hard to retake the slight lead she has on him. But they cross the woods and make it to the house in short order.

"Josie!" cries Carthrine as they cross over the stream and land, jumping into the woman's waiting arms.

"Hey, tigress," says Josie, tossing the seeming three-year-old into the air. Despite her heft for being so small, Josie is still able to hold out a single hand, catching and balancing the young half immortal as she stood on her palm.

Ben walks to them, embracing both women as he pats his daughter's head.

"Today?" Ben asks, and Josie laughs.

 _Can't hide anything from you anymore, can I?_ she thinks almost teasingly.

 _Never could,_ Ben sends back and she snickers.

"What's today?" asks Carthrine.

"Now you've done it," says Josie in mock seriousness. "She's on to us."

"What are you doing today?" asks the young girl, suspicious now.

Josie smiles, "I will tell you when we are all together."

The three walk into the large house, not nearly the quiet and often somber place of the past. Now, it is buzzing.

Teodor is there, back for a visit with the twins. The pretext is rather cute, in Ben's opinion, but even a human who is unaware of her interest could see through Tina's attempts at nonchalance. She spends most of her time in the main room of the house, always available should Emond stop by for a chat. While they are in the same room, she is practically shy with him, and has, so far, done little to pursue him or speak her mind about her affections. Emond has disclosed to his father that he thinks she would be a fine candidate for a possible partner, but until she is willing to ask for what she wants, he is content to leave things where they are.

Ben is too. He enjoys the pace of an immortal child without Emond's particular caliber of rapid growth. A slower pace has allowed him to appreciate children more so than he ever thought he would. He is looking forward to watching his daughter grow up in years, not months. There is much he is thankful for.

"Ben," says Teodor, bowing as he walks in. "Josie. Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

She smiles, always amused at the vampires' attempts to make the mortal feel comfortable.

"Fine, Old Man," she laughs, hitching her's son's sister onto her hip. "Where is my boy?"

"With Edwina," he says, "on the front veranda."

Before they can move, Carthrine hops down and leaps into Emily's waiting arms.

"Hey, half-pint!" she smiles and swings the girl by one arm. "You hungry?"

"No food!" cries Carthrine in mock protest.

"We are about to go see Edwina," says Ben, smiling.

"Oh?" questions Emily with deadpan sarcasm. "I never would have guessed."

Holding Carthrine by a single limb, occasionally playfully tosses her and trading that limb for another, Em leads the way out onto the front porch.

"When are you gonna have one of those?" Josie asks, indicating the swinging toddler. Emily laughs.

"As soon as Rory can figure how to squirt one out," she snickered, as they walked outside. "I choose life. Don't get me wrong; that would be one hell of an adventure, but I am not going to do it until Rory and I are ready. So, not just yet."

Emond and Edwina are sitting together, amongst the small potted herb garden that Edwina keeps there, tended by her and her father. The place is a little bit of their home transposed here to her home, a place of almost divine happiness to ground her.

Emond does not look the young man he did one the day of the Volturi battle. He has used his gifts for physical change almost unconsciously, but understandable. He now looks a peer to Edwina and Ben more so than he did to his mother, a young man in his late teens rather than his mid to late twenties. While he is not noticeable weaker, his build is thinner. And while it has never been more than thought, all his parent by blood and marriage have noticed the hints of green now in his eyes, the highlights of red in his hair, and the slightly lighter cast his skin has taken.

Edwina herself is just as changed. She sits comfortable, wearing thin, white draping cotton, as she does most days, round with child.

Ben recalls their first pregnancy and how nerve wracking it had been. At her request, he had made her mortal himself. Making love to her had been exquisite in a way he had enjoyed immensely, and while her scent had not been nearly the ordeal his had been for her, it had still been a very trying and enlightening experience. He had spent the intervening weeks keeping her fed and happy, trying to keep her unmolested by himself, and then trying to keep himself sane while the pregnancy began to take its toll upon her. He was apoplectic at times in worry and helplessness. The pain she endured was extreme, deeply damaging, and there were times that Ben wished he had never undertaken such an affair. However, after sitting with his son and remembering why they were going through this and that his fear was not making him happy, he stayed with her, calmly through the rest, prepared to endure everything at her side, with her, loving her the way he always strove to.

When their girl was born, tearing her careful way through the flesh of her mother, Edwina had died, her heart stopping, and only with his venom had she survived. He wished that he had not made her the promise to use only his venom to change her and that Emond could have restored her instantly. But a promise was a promise and it had turned out well in the end. Although, Ben swore that he would never endure that much risk to her again.

Ben comes forward, kissing his immortal lips to her half-mortal ones.

"Love," he whispers, putting all his affections into that single word as only he could. Edwina blushes prettily and smiles, and Ben is once again taken aback by how good mortality looks on her immortal continence.

He brushes a graceful hand about her belly and both can feel the love the child has, hearing them both and advanced enough to know them.

"Are you well?" he asks, touching her mind with his, gently brushing for pains or discomforts. She brushes his focus aside, not directly, but with a near mental sign of unconcern that thwarted his fussing.

"I'm perfectly fine," she chides him affectionately. _I'm in my garden. My babies are safe and here._

She lifts Carthrine effortlessly to her body and holds her.

"All is right with the world," she whispers for all to hear.

 _Nearly,_ smiles Emond, and the two telepaths smile and perk up. They three turn to see Alice and Jasper bounding across the stream, arms around each other, looking happier than they had ever been.

Edwina recalls the last time they saw the pair. It was only a few weeks since her daughter had been born, and Alice and Emond were trying desperately to fix Alice's vision so that it might include those of mixed lineage or wolf decent, and after three straight days of sitting stilly across from one another, the best they had managed was that Emond could now occasionally see things that were impending or of great import, sporadically and without control. They had decided they were done for now, and that Emond required sleep when suddenly he laughed. Alice looked perplexed and Edwina had seen in her mind that she and Jasper were to go to Emond, hand in hand, but that her vision ended there, that something Emond was going to do to them prevented her from seeing what happened next. But she had faith and called Jasper to them. Emond put his hands around theirs, and while there was no shimmer to indicate change as there often was with his gift for shifting physical forms, there was definitely a change. Any vampire who knew them could tell. Alice squealed in delight, leaping into the arms of a surprised Jasper, totally nonplussed and not knowing what her vision showed that they would be doing next. With the intensity of that kiss, he took the hint, and they rushed out of the house without so much as a goodbye, having been gone for more than seven weeks and five days.

"Aunt Alice," squeals Carthrine, and leaps from the arms of her mother as soon as the couple is close enough. Alice catches her and laughs.

"Look how big you're getting!" says Alice, beaming so brightly that Ben is forced to take his wife's hand.

"I grow every day," says Carthrine, rolling her eyes with how obvious it is. Everyone is charmed by her, as they so often are.

"How was your... trip?" asks Emily, her words dripping with innuendo.

"Fabulous," enthuses Alice in the singular way that is entirely her own, leaning back into Jasper for a kiss.

"What did you do?" asks Carthrine, smiling up at them as they mount the porch.

"Had lots of enjoyable sex," says Alice pleasantly.

Everyone but Carthrine laughs, but more than a few are laughing at the young girl's confused expression. She looks to her parents, her thoughts full of questions.

"Why don't you go look it up," suggests Edwina.

The young girl goes trotting off to Katherine's study to look for the right book. Alice kisses the top of Emond's head in passing as she goes to hug her pregnant sister.

"Boy or girl?" asks Alice.

"No idea," says Ben, and sends her the quick joking thought, _As though it matters to you._

Alice is shocked, so much so that even Josie picks up on it.

"Oh," she says. "He did the thing."

Alice looks around then looks annoyed. From upstairs, Carthrine's long, drawn out "Ew!" is clearly audible to all the supernatural creatures in the house.

"Our daughter is special," Ben explains before Alice can start her chastising. "She actually can drop her thoughts so smoothly into someone's mind, they won't notice the thoughts weren't their own unless they know what to look for."

"Yeah," says Emily. "Apparently one of the shows she was watching scared her. Next thing I knew, I had a sudden desire for destruction and we needed a new TV."

"After we explained," says Edwina, "she finally decided that it was wrong to change people's minds without permission and has stopped, for the most part."

Ben smiles, "She gets a little extra ice cream now and again, but what is the harm?"

"We learned to send from her," says Emond, "so now we can do both. Dad and I have entire conversations in a matter of seconds."

Alice shakes her head, "We shouldn't stay away so long. We miss so much these days."

Suddenly, Ben, Emond, and Edwina straighten. Alice steps back from Edwina and gasps. Then, with much crunching and scrabbling of underbrush, Auri breaks the tree line.

She looks as though she hasn't changed at all since last she was here, although the silk she wears is now horribly tattered and stretched. She is splattered with muck and stuck with leaves, and though her face is a beauteous as when she left, her expression is a broken, nearly frantic thing. Her pace is enough to make those standing there weary but is not threatening. All the telepaths relax and soon everyone else does.

She looks at the family gathered there, and her face registers shock before she drops to her knees there, her eyes locked with Emond's.

"Why?" she whispers, looking utterly spent in all ways possible.

No one says anything, and she swallows her agitation, and asks again, "Why?"

Emond stands, and the teenage boy is suddenly the man he was when last a member of the Volturi was here. He deftly drops from the porch and lands smoothly, walking to where she landed. Without hesitation or fear, he kneels beside her.

"Did I bid you here?" he asks. "Did I ask for your legion to come to this place and spend it's force in a vain effort to best us? No. I asked for peace. We all did."

Auri casts her eyes up, seeing the entirety of the Cullen clan stand there, the other hybrids and Teodor as well, Emanuel holding Carthrine.

Auri opens her mouth to speak, but Emond waves her words away.

"I don't care for excuses," he says. "I don't care for delusions or self-deceptions. You had a choice and you made it. And, it was the wrong one."

"How could I have known that?" demanded Auri, but her question was genuine enough.

"You couldn't have," says Emond. "That's what a mistake is, making the best decision you can that doesn't get you what you want or expect."

"You destroyed us!" hisses Auri.

Carthrine looks concernedly at her mother and father, but at Ben's smile, all her concern melts away and she turns back and continues watching.

"The dead were upon both sides," says Emond calmly. "Nor did we draw first blood."

"You raised your powers and your loves from the dead," excuses Auri. "Raise mine!"

Emond smiles, "No."

"Why not?" expounds Auri.

"Because I can't," says Emond. "Nor would I if I could. They chose their end. I will not rob them of their choice."

"You robbed me of mine!" she shot back.

Emond shook his head, "Had I, you all would have fallen before me. I would have burned you down where you stood, turned you to ash and dust. What you did, you did of your own free will. I will not change or force anyone against their will, even if that means the death of someone I care about. It is not up to me who lives and dies. I am not wise enough to be able to understand what it means to take a life. One day, perhaps, but not now."

"I didn't know," she replies, her voice filled with all the tremulous emotion a vampire's voice can hold. "I had no notion that this could have happened."

"True," says Emond, "and utterly pointless to say. Even had you the gift of foresight, you couldn't be sure, as one with such gifts will attest."

Alice nods sagely.

Auri sags, "My sisters are dead. The paramours left, and the guard is dissolving. Without one with the power to keep us together, everything is falling apart."

"As expected," says Emond.

"It wasn't expected by me!" cries Auri, her face twitching with the infinite emotions that flow within her, making her likeness almost ugly for the first time.

Emond, completely at ease and peaceful, walks forward and embraces the aged, ageless immortal woman. She does not respond, as though unable to understand what is happening or why. Then slowly, her face begins to drain, slacken, pulling her eyes wide and unable to suppress the upwelling of fearful surprise within her. Still, she does nothing, and Emond might as well be hugging a stone.

"You have lived for so very long," he says, "yet you have learned so very little. True bonds do not come from shackles and chains. Real bonds are of the heart, are of choice, building families that will bear most anything together. Even death. You lost because you couldn't win. You can kill us, rob us of all we hold dear, and yet, you cannot win because you do not know how to live, or how to love."

He pulls back, and she looks at him, an edge of awe tingeing her fear. Tina looks on with something that might have been admiration, if not shot through with hints of jealousy and coveting.

Auri blinks, looking at him.

"I don't understand," she says, and Emond grins with such fierce joy, he can barely contain himself.

"Good!" he beams. "No, you don't. But knowing that is the first step. What would you like to do?"

She glowers at him, "Kill you."

Emond chuckles quietly, "Do you think that would make you happier or simply allow you to notice your misery less?"

She relaxes.

"What must I do to escape this?" she asks, somehow seeming young.

Emond smiles and says something in an old dialect, so old that it hasn't be heard or spoken aloud in nearly a millennium. No one there understands the words, save one.

"You must trust me, my girl child," he says, in the intonation and cadence Auri never knew that she could still remember, nor release that she had so completely forgotten.

The elder before them seems to slide back through time, reduced to the child she was long ago, touched by the barely remembered father who was younger than most of the immortals present appear to be when he died.

She nods, looking for all the world as though she was embracing death willingly, as though by succumbing, she is prepared to die, that she might see her father once more.

Emond smiles and touches the tip of his left middle finger to the center of her forehead. She gasps and falters. Emond steadies her with an arm around her shoulders, her now hunched, gnarled, and stooped shoulders. She looks down at her hands, wizened and thin, aged spotted and wrinkled.

She gasps again, her voice rough, her throat rattling, her hand clutching at her chest. All her nubile flesh has bunched and sagged, all her youth drained away. The aged vampire is now an aged woman, looking far older than any human could have survived in the days of her mortality.

"What-," she rasps, having to stop and rediscover her voice. "What have you done to me?"

He lifts her easily and comfortable, leaping smoothly to the porch and settling her in his seat across from Edwina. She hunches and finds that she cannot sit straight as she once had. She is looking all around as though the world has grown, as though she cannot keep her surroundings in her thoughts anymore and has to keep checking. She looks startlingly childlike for someone her apparent age, so afraid, wrong, alone, and helpless.

Finally, her attention focuses on Edwina, and she becomes utterly still, but cannot keep the surprised awe off her face.

"You're-" she trips over her own words and thoughts. "You're-"

"A mother," Edwina beams, sliding an arm around Carthrine and pulling the small child into her lap.

"You're-" Auri tries again, finding she needs to moisten her lips, seeming to find the process bewildering. "You're like them."

Edwina smiles deeply and kisses her daughter's cheek.

"Yes," she says. "It is easier to carry such powerful children this way."

Carthrine slips off her mother's lap, seemingly in awe of Auri. For a child who has spent so much time with ageless, beautiful people, she is completely fascinated to see someone so old. In the inquisitive and boundariless way of toddlers, she walking up to Auri and began running her tiny fingers over the back of her hand, following veins and wrinkles.

"You're a human?" she asks.

Carthrine had seen humans, of course. She had met her grandmothers, and Carrie had been more than a little flabbergasted. But other than them, she had only met vampires, wolves, and hybrids.

"I suppose I am, little one," says Auri carefully, shifting to try and sit more comfortably.

Carthrine gives her a considering look, then in the universal language of all children, she raises her hands up to indicate a desire to be held.

Auri stares at her a moment, unsure what she should do. She looks about and finds no help in the smiling faces about her. At last, she reaches down and with great deliberation, she settles the small child across her lap.

Carthrine settles her head to Auri's chest, listening closely to her heart, holding to her with one hand while the other continues to play at the exploded skin about her collarbone.

"I like you," says Carthrine, and Auri's expression is teary, at a complete loss.

Ben sees what is happening, what will likely happen. Even now, she is starting to lose herself, the depths and breadths of her vampire self are starting to fade. As a human, she can change, she can choose, she can be something other than what she was, and she can let go and move on. She may, in fact, have a chance at being happy. And some day, she may return to the immortal life, should she choose, if she does not depend on it as she has done. Or, she may be prepared to find her final rest, with a fearless heart.

Ben smiles, and his eyes find his son's.

 _Walk with me._

The two stand and slip out into the woods, the family starting to disperse, while Edwina, Katherine, and Carthrine keep Auri company, even talking of food.

Walking amongst the trees, slowly, even for humans, they connect, mind to mind, streaming their consciousness into one another's.

 _Tell me, son; how do you choose to value life?_

Emond reflected infinitesimally.

 _I will not take away another's right to choose. I, therefore, will never take a life, not when there is an alternative._

Ben considers.

 _There was an alternative when we fought the Volturi. You did not need to burn them._

Emond nods, _But they would have been burned. Not even I could have stopped that. All on our side would have insisted upon it, save Katherine. Even you would have agreed that it needed to be done. Of that, I have no doubt._

Ben agrees, but then asks, _Why such a stringent line?_

Emond stops and lays a hand on his chest.

 _I may hold in my hands the fate of three peoples. Perhaps more. Did you know there are actual werewolves?_

Ben laughs, _Of course, there are; why not?!_

Emond chuckles, but then returns his serious expression.

 _I have a responsibility to everyone to ensure that my power is not abused, even by me._

Ben rests his hand on his son's shoulder, _And if you must kill, for the good of all?_

Emond smiles and looks into his father's eyes, _Then I must. Someday I may grow strong enough and wise enough that I may choose to take lives, but I will not do so until I am sure that it is within my ability to do so._

 _Ability?_ asks Ben.

Emond makes a conciliatory expression, _Ability to truly understand if it is the right thing to do. If it will doubtless make the world a better and safer place, rather than just a simpler, less confrontational one._

Ben nods, _It's easy to become a tyrant if you kill everyone who disagrees with you._

Emond mock frowns, "I'll kill you for that!"

They both laugh and embrace.

"Dad," says Emond as they pull back but don't drop arms, "do you believe in God?"

Ben smiles slowly, for a vampire.

"I think," he says slyly, "the question is, do _you_ believe in God?"

Emond shrugs, a decidedly human gesture, _I don't know. On the one hand, there is no empirical evidence to suggest he exists. But, if there was, I think that would defeat the purpose of faith._

Ben nods, _Faith is important._

Emond nods exactly as his father had, _True, but it is a skill, like love. Blind faith helps no one, and can even be quite damaging. But if there is a God, I believe he wants us to have the choice._

 _The choice?_ inquires Ben.

 _Yeah. If we all knew God existed, we wouldn't need faith. Who could justify a lack of belief if we all knew he was real. By offering no evidence, he allows us to denounce him._

 _Why is that important?_ asks Ben.

 _Because, if he does exist, undeniably, we have no free will. In order to have free will and choice, he can't be evident, to any degree. In the magnitudes of humans that are alive today, there is, I have little doubt, at least one that would sacrifice all independent thought and self-reliance when faced with His existence._

Ben tilts his head in thought, _So, in order for us to have free will, we need to be able to deny he exists. Could it be that he simply doesn't exist?_

Emond nods, _Very possibly. But I can't help but wonder. It's so simplistic, yet so elegant; he gives us the right to choose, then allows us to utterly fail and make the wrong choice, allowing us total selfishness and to become utterly corrupt. And you know why?_

"Why?" asks Ben smilingly.

 _Because we need to fail to learn. It is impossible to really learn without failure. You have to have the choice to be awful or to be awesome in order for the choice to have real meaning. The choices we make every day has no inherent morality, nor has any consequences we can't choose to ignore. So, all decisions we make can be influenced by everyone around us, but ultimately, the choices we make are ours to make, regardless of justifications and excuses, whether or not we take responsibility for our decisions._

Ben just smiles. Emond grins too.

"You're making this way too complicated," says Ben.

"Yeah," says Emond. "Okay. So, let's just use the term God metaphorically. The world is a complex place, even for minds like ours. Let's just simplify this to two basic ideas. God gave us two gifts. He gave us free will and his love."

 _His love?_ asks Ben.

 _Yeah. Love is like an energy; it can't be created or destroyed. You get it from others who have it to give, but like all energy, it had to come from somewhere. The least complicated explanation to all things unplumbed by humans and vampires alike is that God did it. He gave us free will and loved us no matter what we do with that freedom. Life presents us with lessons, each allowing us to grow and became the person we are always meant to be. We take learning our lessons at whatever speed best suits us, because God loves us anyway, and to love someone no matter what they have done, unconditionally, is to be Godly._

Ben smiles, _So, whether or not God truly exists is not necessary, but it is a useful model for teaching others how to live._

 _Exactly._

Emond thinks of every atrocity that Auri had ever committed, in perfect detail. He can see what will come. She will have the chance to learn, if she so chooses, to see the world with new eyes. With the simple love of those around her, she will have the chance learn on her own, without the need of anyone to control her or teach her as such. She will learn by example, or she will stay as she is. What will be will be, and he needs not try to make it anything more than what it is. Through love and faith, all is possible.

"May I intrude?" asks Tina, coming up beside them. In a moment, Emond has returned to his now usual self, a peer to his father, smiling at her.

Ben kisses his son's cheek.

"You are a gift," he says. "I am proud of you, son."

Emond smiles, "You're welcome."

"Come on," Ben says. "It is time for your mother's little announcement."

"Already?" asks Emond, taking up a pace while Tina almost begrudgingly joined them. By the time they return, the family has gathered. Everyone is on the porch, with Josie at the head of the gathering. Seeing Ben and her son, she smiles and knows the time is now.

"I'm leaving," says Josie. The small assemblage focus entirely upon her as Ben and Emond join them, yet naturally, only Carthrine appears to be surprised.

"Why?" she asks, her tone more curious than distressed, though there is fear in her eyes.

Ben laughs lightly and easily.

"Daughter," he says in deep paternal comfort, carefully taking her from Auri's lap, "she would never leave because of anything you have done. As important as you are, you cannot cause anyone to make decisions they wouldn't, not unless you forced them with your ability. No justifications can ever compete with free will. She does as she wants, the best that she can, always."

"For those of us who can't read minds," says Emily, "care to fill us in?"

"I'm going to find my mate," Josie says. "The man on who I am to imprint."

"Like a boyfriend?" asks Carthrine.

Josie laughs and plucks her from Ben's proffered arms.

"Exactly!" she laughs, tickling the tiny squirming half immortal child.

Ben retrieves the giggling little girl, continuing the attention. Josie doesn't have much time to wonder why before her son hugs her.

"I'm so proud of you, Mom," he says, his voice thick, sounding largely human.

"Oh, Emond," she says tremulously. "Don't do that."

"I can't not," he says, tears in his eyes but a smile on his lips. "I love you and I'm going to miss you."

Emond holds tight to her a moment more.

"Take all the time you need," he says. "By the time you get back, I should be able to fill you in on everything you miss. Literally. It will be like you were never gone."

She laughs, "Thanks, but I'll keep my head as it is."

He grins, "Okay, okay. I'll keep all the first memories of cuddling new babies to myself."

Her expression twists, disparate halves of herself at wars. Emond and Ben laugh.

Edwina stands gracefully, her distended form still lustrous and fluid in its motions. She hugs the taller woman with care, putting every bit the sisterly affections into her actions as she did with her vampire family.

"You gonna miss the only other breeder?" asks Josie sarcastically.

Edwina beams, "Oh hush, bitch. You're only leaving so you can get a little play again."

"I'm sorry," says Josie in equal measure. "If you'd prefer, I could just hit up Ben. I mean, you're busy being with child and all. Seems the least I could do."

"Alright, ladies," says Ben before the term "dried up snatch" can enter their daughter's ears. Both women laugh and hug again.

"If you decide you want another kid before you find him," says Edwina, "just head back. I'm sure Ben wouldn't mind."

"I'm sure," says Josie, giving Ben a meaningful look.

"Ew!" says Carthrine and everyone laughs.

Edwina takes their daughter from his arms so that Ben can fill them with the mother of his first child, his best friend, the only woman who had a prayer of contesting with his wife.

"You're still so boney," complains Josie and Ben chortles.

"He might be a vampire, you know," says Ben. "If there is any wolf that can imprint of a vampire, I bet it's you."

Josie swats him on the behind but quickly draws back her hand.

"Ow," she complains, shaking her hand out. Ben smiles, "My, how the tables have turned..."

Josie grins, "You're gonna be jealous."

"No," says Ben. "He's not good enough for you, that's for sure. But then again, neither was I."

"Bull," she says. "You were the best. Always will be."

Ben almost unconsciously turns, finding his pregnant wife, holding their daughter on her hip, their heads bent together, watching, nothing on their faces but happiness, love, and acceptance.

"You're off to find what I have," says Ben. "It is a worthwhile labor. I wish you all the luck, Jocelyn Black."

Josie bends and kisses his cheek.

"I love you," they both say over each other and grin.

Josie grabs the strange backpack that has been set at the edge of the porch. Without a second thought, she strips and stuffs her clothing haphazardly into the bag. Setting it loosely on her shoulders, she carefully jumps and settles, perched on the railing.

"Hey, Carthrine," she says over her shoulder, "wanna see a trick?"

Carthrine nods and claps her tiny hands with the pace of a perfect metronome.

Josie closes her eyes, facing front. Slowly, the air around her begins to shimmer and shine, the usual telltale signs of shifting, hiding her form entirely. Then with a crack and a flash, the shimmering is gone, and a huge, red-brown eagle stands upon the rail. It turns one large eye to wink at the little girl, who is cuing in delight. She stretches her wings, the pack settling as though it has been designed to fit a bird her size and shape in flight. With a leap and a spreading of wings, she turns and flies away.

"I love you."

Everyone turns, most of all Emond, to see Tina standing next to him, a fierce pride warring with a need to be heard upon her face.

"Finally," Emond breathes and pulls her into his arms. As their lips meet, something seems to seal between them, as though something that had been broken between them, that should have been open and clear, is mended. And with it, a flood passed back and forth.

Emond had learned Auri's ability and improved upon it; with a look, he could know every thought that a person could ever think. With the help of his sister, he had learned to drop a thought into another's mind. But here, now, this ability reforged, redoubled. Upon this contact, he not only knew every thought that she had ever thought, but her mind was filled with every thought he had ever had as well. She knew him, his mind, his ever part of him. She knew that he had known her, had felt the pride war from day one, the knowledge that she had never met any man who moved her the way he did, and that her pride had always demanded that she be the pursued, not the pursuer. And now, she knew that he had refused, that he had known that if she was unwilling to ask for what she wanted, he could never give it to her, for he would be taking away her responsibility to herself. He loved her enough to never give her what she wasn't willing to get for herself. Now, she had done it. She was willing to speak and ask and take charge of her own happiness. And so was he.

The habits would come. Knowing a partner is only half the bond between them, and they both knew it. They would build the habits quickly, for they are half immortal, though they are not impatient any longer. They have their family, love, and each other. Though they are safe today, they understood that safety would not likely last. But whatever would come their way, they would take it a day at a time, and they would face it together. Always.


End file.
